Angel
by njborba
Summary: Emily has been lying to herself for years about what really happened when she was fifteen, but the truth is about to walk back into her life.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own any rights to the TV series, _Criminal Minds_.

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><p><strong>Angel<strong>

Part 1

By  
>N. J. Borba<p>

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><p>Emily stood in the bathroom doorway looking into her bedroom. She remained there for a short time watching the man in her bed whose nose was stuck in a book. It was amusing, and sexy as hell, to see Derek Morgan's muscled bare chest peeking out from the bed sheets, his taught biceps flexed to hold the paperback copy of Vonnegut's <em>Siren's of Titan<em>. But even as attractive as she found his hunky versus nerdy qualities, Emily was a bit miffed that he hadn't looked up yet.

"Are you going to stand there all night?" he asked, eyes still glued to the book.

She wanted to be mad at him for taunting her like that, not looking her way, pretending to be much more interested in the book than he was in her. Emily was far from mad, though, but she still wanted to teach him a lesson. Casually, she moved away from the door and took a few slow steps toward the bed. Then she abandoned the reticent approach and jumped onto the bed, crawled toward him, straddled his hips and snatched the book out of his grasp.

He let out a whoosh of breath as she pounced on him, surprised by her playful mood. "What are you doing, crazy lady?" he grinned, hands resting against her thighs.

"Trying to get you to pay attention to me," Emily replied, tossing the book across the bed.

Derek laughed. "Baby, I've been paying attention. Don't you worry about that," he intoned softly, his hands sliding up and down her bare thighs. His eyes narrowed a little as he caught sight of her t-shirt attire. "Em, what school did you go to?"

"Excuse me?" she sat back a little, not impressed by his meager attempts at seduction. "I don't know what kind of foreplay you think I'm into, but the whole student and professor thing is kind of lame," Emily declared with a dismissive tone.

"I wasn't… damn, baby," Derek groaned, shifting himself beneath her. He had to admit that even hearing the word foreplay emit from her mouth turned him on. "I was actually just curious about the shirt you're wearing," he tugged on the hem of the dark purple t-shirt. "Because I'm pretty sure I'm the one who attended Northwestern," Morgan smiled. "And I've been wondering where this shirt ran off to," he added, amused to see it on her.

The two of them had been casually seeing one another for a few months, ever since an UnSub had decided to kill hundreds of homeless and destitute people in the hopes of improving science. For some reason that case had hit them both a bit hard and had struck up their casual agreement. Although, casual usually implied that the two people were seeing other people and left one another's home after sex, whereas the two of them had spent many nights together and always stayed still dawn. And each claimed to not be seeing other people.

But anything beyond the term casual was not uttered between them.

Her head dipped a little, dark hair brushing against his shoulder. "I like it," Emily spoke softly against his right ear. "It smells like you."

His smile widened. "I smell like me, too," Derek noted.

"Yes, you do," she agreed, kissing his earlobe and licking the sweet spot where his ear connected to his neck. "But sometimes you're not here," Emily said, rubbing her ample chest against his. "So, I wear the shirt and… think about you."

"Think, huh?" he asked with shaky breath as his hands roamed beneath the hem of her shirt. "That all?"

"Wouldn't you like to know," she teased. Words failed him, but he nodded as their kisses heated up. The loud buzz of a cell phone vibrating against a hard surface interrupted their union. Both heads turned toward Emily's phone which sat on the nearby nightstand. "Ignore it," she insisted, helping him draw the purple shirt up and over her head.

Faced with her completely naked body, Morgan did indeed ignore the phone. It went silent a moment later. Then another phone rang, her land line; a cordless phone which rested in a cradle on the same nightstand as her cell. Derek groaned, clearly annoyed by the interruptions, as she worked at his boxers. "It could be important," he whispered between the kisses they shared. "Maybe the team, maybe a case…"

"Damn it," Emily swore as she sat back and plucked the cordless from its spot. "Yes?" she answered rather abruptly. A sigh escaped as she looked away from Derek, eyes focused on the wall behind her bed. "This is a very bad time to talk about… no, John, I don't think… fine, tomorrow morning," her tone turned to agreement. "I'll see you there."

Morgan watched her hit the kill switch on the phone and drop it back into the cradle. "Everything okay?" he questioned.

A nod came in response. "Fine, just an old friend who needs… some help," her last few words were somewhat hesitant.

He'd heard the name John, and for some reason his mind had launched back several months to a case they'd worked involving a series of supposed exorcisms. John Cooley was the name of her friend they'd helped then. And, if he'd been thinking with anything other than the south pole of his anatomy, Derek might have been more concerned by her current phone call and resulting explanation. As it was, he snaked his arms about her waist, flipped her onto her back and quickly picked up where they'd left off.

xxx

Derek used the black plastic spatula to flip both eggs. Then he went to fetch the toast, buttered it, sliced it and fanned it out on two plates. Back at the stove he scooped up one egg and deposited it onto a plate. He was going about repeating the process when the phone rang. Derek finished the task and paused to listen, hearing the shower still running up on the second floor of Emily's place. He let the phone ring.

The message machine came to life; a pre-recorded electronic voice answered and informed the caller to leave their name and number. Morgan listened as a man's voice came on the machine. "_Hi, Emily… it's me, I was just concerned about you. You said you'd meet me this morning for coffee, but you're not here. Call me back as soon as you can. Like I said last night this matter is time sensitive, and I'd rather not discuss it over the phone_."

That was it, no good-bye, he just hung up. Derek frowned as he poured two mugs of coffee and sat them down on Emily's glass-topped table along with their eggs and toast. Cooking breakfast for Emily Prentiss was most definitely not a part of their casual relationship. But it had become a routine the last few days since they'd been lacking a case in the field. He knew it was dangerous getting so involved, but they'd been enjoying their time together outside of the sexual part of the relationship, which certainly didn't feel like a bad thing.

"Hey," Emily made her way down the stairs in a fluffy white and blue striped bathrobe, hair still wet and curled into a knot atop her head. "Coffee…" she slipped into the seat beside Derek and snatched up the mug of dark liquid steaming in front of her. She sniffed the welcome aroma and then sipped it.

"That's all I get, a: _hey_ and _coffee_?" Derek grinned.

She smiled, too. "Sorry, mornings tend to leave me with a one-track coffee oriented mind," Emily shrugged, taking another drink of the warm brew.

"Well, I'd like to add a little something extra to your morning routine," he replied.

"I thought you already had," she alluded to the fact that he'd woken up aroused and they'd taken care of the problem in the shower.

Morgan leaned toward her and placed a soft kiss against her cheek. "I was referring to that," he said, indicating that his kiss was what he'd been talking about just now. "Not that I minded the part you mentioned," he added, face split with a pleased grin. It faded a second later. "There was a call for you while you were in the shower, I heard the message," Derek mentioned as they each dug into the eggs he'd made. "Sounded like that friend of yours, John Cooley?" he fished.

"Crap," Emily sat her toast down. "I said I'd meet him this morning. I forgot."

"He seemed worried about you," Derek went on, forkful of egg brought to his lips. He chewed the bite while noticing that Emily remained quiet. "He said something about a time sensitive issue. What's that all about?"

Emily shrugged. "Not sure. John and I are old friends," she realized he already knew that fact after the words escaped. "I think he's still holding on to the connection he, Matthew and I had as kids. Personally, I'd rather it all be swept under the rug. Matthew is gone now. I wish John could move on."

Derek's eyes narrowed as he digested the food and her words. He had a feeling there was more to it all than one friend not dealing with his grief. "Look," he put his fork down, ready to lay it all on the line. "If you're seeing other people, maybe John… we never really talked about it before, but that's your right and…"

"It's not that," she instantly replied, staring him in the eye. Her head shook and she abandoned her meal, even her coffee. "John and I were… we thought we were in love as teenagers. And maybe we were, as much as two teenagers can be," Emily revealed with a heavy heart. "But we were so young and then I got pregnant," she found the words came out fairly easy, but nonetheless heavyhearted. "John was scared. He told his parents and they moved away without another word. Matthew helped me take care of things," she stated.

His fork was used to push egg around the plate. Derek hadn't been expecting all of that explanation from her. "So, you two aren't trying to rekindle anything?"

"I'm not," Emily let him know. "But I think… maybe he might be," she admitted. "Which is why I keep avoiding him."

"So, you and I…" Morgan had no idea what he'd been planning to say. He didn't want to scare her off, but he also really didn't want their relationship to be casual any longer. "What are we doing here?" he finally asked.

She looked at the eggs and coffee, unable to hold his eye any longer. "We're having breakfast," Emily concluded.

xxx

The words were still clouding her thoughts several hours later as she sat at her desk filling out a report. "_We're having breakfast_." The level of lameness associated with that answer had been off the charts, and Emily knew Derek had felt stung by it. He hadn't said as much, but things after that had been subdued between them as they finished breakfast, dressed and left for work in their separate vehicles. She was getting really good at the art of tug-a-war when it came to anything in life.

She'd always flittered from one thing to the next, in school and in her personal relationships especially. Commitment might as well be a four letter word in her world, because it was just as offensive. Emily had known from an early age that she was not cut out to stick with one thing for a long period of time. It was likely a product of her environment, growing up in a multitude of countries, always having to pick up and start over. At the BAU she'd finally started to feel rooted, now she was likely to ruin that stability as well.

"Hi, Emily."

Her heard turned to the left and she spotted him standing beside her desk. His clothes looked even baggier than the last time she'd seen him. And his slightly balding hair was completely shaved. His eyes were sunken, and skin so pale you could practically see through it. "John," she finally greeted him, worry coursing through every vein in her body. It had been a long time since she'd felt love for the boy, but it reared its head now, although it was mostly concerned love. "What are you doing here?"

The man fingered his temporary security card, which dangled from a clip attached to his white button-up shirt. "I really need to talk to you, but you're avoiding me," he observed. "I hate bothering you at work, but it's important. Very. Can we talk?"

Emily glanced over to see Reid doing his best to appear that he wasn't overhearing their conversation. She glanced upward toward Hotch and Rossi's office windows. She could see them both hunched over desks. Finally she turned again and her eyes lit upon the empty conference room. "Up there," she motioned with her shoulder as she stood.

They walked together, past a few desks, up the stairs and into the BAU room. Emily closed the door. "I'm sorry to come here where you work," John began again.

A shrug raised her shoulders. "Just… tell me what's going on," Emily implored.

"I found her," he responded.

With furrowed brow she carefully pushed breath past her lips. Both arms folded across her chest. "Who? What are you talking about, John?" She was half-way worried that he was involved with drugs again the way they'd all experimented in their younger years. As far as she knew, only Matthew had kept that horrible practice up. But John's behavior was certainly suspect at the moment, and his appearance backed up the theory.

"Matthew told me everything before he died, Emily," the man delved into more explanation. "He told me what really happened with you and… the baby."

"I don't know what you mean," her head shook in outright denial.

John smiled softly. "You couldn't do it," he spoke just as soft. "I never thought you could, and you didn't. I'm just sorry you felt you had to lie to me about it. I know my parents were awful about everything, taking me away like that, but…" his head shook. "None of that matters right now. I found her, Emily. She lives in Baltimore, has all her life; right where you left her. I talked to her and we're meeting on Friday."

"No, you…" Emily felt a shiver course through her body.

"I know it must be a shock to you, but I had to find her," John continued. "I'm dying, Emily. I have liver cancer, stage four. There's nothing more that can really be done, so I wanted to meet her before…" he shrugged, leaving death out of the conversation, though in words only. "She's agreed to see me." John handed over a slip of folded paper. "This is where we'll be Friday. You're welcome to join us. I didn't tell her you'd be there for certain. I just said I'd try."

With that, he turned and left the conference room. And Emily stared blankly at the paper.

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><p><strong>To be continued…<strong>


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own any rights to the TV series, _Criminal Minds_.

* * *

><p><strong>Angel<strong>

Part 2

By  
>N. J. Borba<p>

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><p>Emily stared at herself in the mirror, hating what she saw. Every dress, skirt or set of pants and top she tried on felt wrong. But she was pretty certain it had nothing to do with the clothing itself. The thing she hated most while gazing at her reflection was the scared fifteen year old girl she saw starring back at her. She ditched all the clothes and threw on a fluffy robe instead, resigned to staying home. Locking herself away was how she'd gotten through most of life. She figured this wouldn't be any different.<p>

The knock at her door a half hour later was not from the man she'd been expecting. She stared at him for a long time through the peephole, debating. His black jeans and blue t-shirt hugged every muscle perfectly, but even her physical attraction to the man was marred by her mood. Emily wanted to pretend she wasn't home, hide out in her own home like a coward. Just like her earlier thoughts of seclusion. But she knew she owed him a lot more than that. "Derek," her greeting lacked inflection as she swung the door open for him.

He didn't seem daunted by her lackluster tone of voice, or the fact that she was dressed in a robe at seven o'clock on a Friday night. "I brought Chinese," he announced triumphantly while holding his plastic bag aloft, as if he'd hunted down and killed the meal himself.

"I'm not hungry," Emily replied, still rooted to the spot by her open door.

Derek stayed on the other side, finally sensing that something was wrong. He'd been getting the cold shoulder from her all week, but figured it was just a matter of work stress. In an attempt to lighten the mood, he fished through the bag and pulled out two individually wrapped fortune cookies. "In that case, how about we just skip straight to desert?" he suggested. "This kind, and then maybe the really good kind," he winked. "I believe your fortune has something to do with getting lucky tonight," his playful banter continued.

"We can't do this anymore," she spoke in a whisper, starring at the cookies in his hand. Emily didn't believe her future held anything good.

His hopes were crushed in an instant, worries realized. "I should have called, right?" Morgan tried to make amends, thinking he'd been far too persistent recently. "I'm sorry. I know we agreed to be casual and all that. Surprise visits don't really respect that rule."

She sighed. "It's not that, Morgan."

The formal use of his last name caused him to wince. More than anything he wanted the playful, carefree Emily he'd witnessed the other night. But, as he studied the woman before him now, Derek could plainly see she was lost somewhere beyond his reach. "Then… what is it?"

"I think we both knew this was going to end badly," Emily began, trying to hold herself together for a little while longer, at least until he left. "We work together and…"

"And we've done a good job to keep this separate from work," Derek countered. He reached for her hand, taking it in his. "Please, tell me what's going on and we can…"

"Emily?" a man's voice called out from down the hall, breaking up the conversation between them. She and Derek both turned to find John walking toward the door. His baggy jeans and shirt were topped off by a worn leather jacket that nearly dwarfed him. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt," he apologized. "But you said you'd meet me in the lobby downstairs. I thought maybe you'd stood me up again," John looked to her for an answer.

Morgan let go of her hand, a spike of anger and jealousy churning in his gut. "You should have just told me the truth," he growled in Emily's direction before storming down the hall.

"Derek, it's not…" her words fell upon deaf ears as Morgan disappeared around the corner. Emily felt sick for the way she'd just treated him. Seeing him in her bed reading a book, pouncing on him in a playful manner… all that seemed like a far distant memory to her now, rather than just a few days past. She did her best to shake it off as she faced John, prepared to dismantle what was left of her life. "I can't go with you tonight, John."

The man wore a confused look. "But we changed our plans from coffee this morning to dinner tonight, specifically so you could join us," he reminded her.

"I said maybe," Emily recalled the phone conversation she'd had with him the day before; one brave moment in time, which had now turned into another notch in her cowardly belt. "I'm sorry, just tell her… tell her whatever you want. But I'm not going." Emily didn't even allow him a chance to speak again before she closed the door in his face.

xxx

A gust of wind kicked up some leaves and caused Emily to shiver as she stood on the sidewalk. She felt like some voyeur, no better than most of the criminals they chased down. But curiosity had won out over cowardliness, at least to a very small degree. That was how she'd come to drive across town and stand on the other side of the street from the restaurant where John was meeting with their... "Our what?" she whispered aloud to herself. "She's not our anything," Emily added.

"Did you say something," a man's voice called to her.

Emily nearly jumped. She reflexively reached for the weapon that was normally at her hip. It wasn't there, though. Not tonight. Her eyes focused in the dim glow of the street lamp. The man was tall, about six feet, and older with slightly graying temples. He wore a long cream colored trench coat and expensive shoes. "I was just…" Emily paused. What was she to say? That she was talking to herself? The guy would think her a certified nut case.

"You're Emily Prentiss," he said.

She couldn't help notice there was no hesitation in his voice. "How do you know that?"

He smiled. "Because you look so much like her," the man replied. "Or, I suppose I should say that she looks very much like you."

Realization hit her like a ton of bricks. "You're her father?"

A nod came from him. "Scott Hayden," he offered his hand to her, but she didn't take it. "This must be strange for you," he continued, undeterred. "I know it certainly is for me. Knowing that Angie wanted to meet her real father, it hurts. I know she loves me, but it's… well, awkward is saying very little."

Only one thing had truly caught Emily's attention in all his words. "Angie? Her name is Angie?"

"John didn't tell you much, did he?" Hayden asked.

Her eyes focused again on the restaurant. She could see two people inside that she thought might be the blurry forms of John and the young woman. But she couldn't be certain, not certain enough to see that the girl looked anything like her. "I didn't want to know," she replied.

Again he nodded, not seeming too surprised. "We named her Angela, but she prefers Angie," he revealed. "My wife and I tried to have children for many years. Nothing came of it. But when Father Quinn placed that little bundle into our arms we both knew she was meant to be ours. Didn't matter to either of us where she'd come from," the man explained, nothing but love in his tone. "Angie, though, she always wanted to figure out the truth. She's constantly looking for answers. Probably why she wants to pursue a law degree," he reasoned. "Of course John says you're an FBI agent. Maybe she gets that from you."

Emily shook her head. "I'm sure she didn't get anything from me," she replied. "I need to go now."

As she made her quick retreat, Emily could hear the man trying to call her attention. But she never turned back.

xxx

Emily stood directly in front of the coffee pot in the BAU's break area. She closed her eyes and tried to revive herself on the smell of perking coffee, but she knew it would take a lot more than that. Perhaps a whole pot or more before she could consider herself alert in any sense of the word. When the coffee was finally done she poured herself a large mug and dumped a ton of artificial sweetener in, nearly enough to put sugar production out of business for good. Then she drank; gulping rather than sipping.

"Rough weekend?" JJ asked, reaching for a mug and noticing her friend's disheveled appearance.

"I didn't get much sleep," Emily answered.

"Oh?" JJ's brows arched as she poured coffee into her mug. "Good weekend, then?" she further prodded her friend.

For a brief moment Emily couldn't help wonder if JJ knew or suspected that she and Morgan had been seeing one another outside of work. But she decided it wasn't likely and gave a shake of the head as her only response. "Do we have a case?" she attempted to focus on work, hopping the liaison would give up her fishing expedition.

"Amazingly, no," the younger woman replied. "But you have a visitor," her head nodded toward the bullpen. "Reid has been chatting with her for almost twenty minutes now, so you might want to go rescue her," JJ grinned before making her way back toward her office.

Curiosity tugged at the back of Emily's mind, as to who would be visiting her first thing on a Monday morning. "There she is," Emily heard Reid say when she was within earshot.

The bullpen's morning hustle seemed to come to a crashing halt as Emily watched the young woman turn around and face her. She noticed the girl's dark brown hair, much the same as hers had been before she started dying it years ago. The girl also resembled her in regards to eyes, mouth, chin, nearly every small physical feature aside from her nose. She had John's nose, and his shy smile, which was now aimed at her. "Hi," Angie greeted.

For a moment no words would form, but Emily finally managed to squeeze out a very soft, "How did you get in here?" She starred at the name Angie Hayden on the ID badge clipped to the girl's blue sweater.

The young woman bit her bottom lip nervously. "I told them I was family."

"That's right," Reid spoke up again. "You never did tell me how you two are related." His eyes were aimed on Angie for a few seconds before turning the question to Emily.

"She's my…" Emily had no idea what to say, so she fell back on a lie. It seemed to be her status quo recently. "We're cousins."

That response caused Angie's nervousness to turn to disappointment. "Right, cousins," she agreed, reluctantly. Turning to Reid, the young woman smiled again, far less shy and much more genuine. "It was really nice to meet you, Spencer. But, you don't mind if I talk to my cousin privately, do you?"

"Not at all," the man responded, his cheeks blushing ever-so-slightly. "Please," he waved a hand toward Emily. "No one is in the conference room," he noted, pointing up to the room.

Angie looked to Emily again. "Can we talk?"

Emily said nothing, still feeling guilty over her cousin response. She carefully followed the girl to the conference room and closed the door, sealing them inside where others would not be able to overhear them talking. Instantly she was reminded of her conversation with John in the very same room just a week ago. It seemed that a lifetime had passed in the short space of seven days. The lie she'd been feeding herself for almost twenty-four-years had come back to bite her in the ass, big time.

"I'm sorry I just showed up here like this," Angie began, sensing that Emily wasn't going to be the first to speak. "But after seeing John on Friday," she sighed. "I just really wanted to see you, too. And I thought that if I waited I'd chicken out, so I just took a chance and here I am," she declared. Still not getting any kind of response from Emily, the younger forged ahead. "My dad said he spoke to you."

A silent nod was Emily's response, afraid of the words that might come out.

"This is weird for you, I'm sure," Angie kept speaking. "It's awkward for me, too. My parents sat me down when I was six and told me that I was adopted. I didn't really understand it all then, but as I got older I realized what it meant. It wasn't until high school that I really got curious about you. My mom died when I was seven and just having my dad when I was a teenager, well, it was kind of tough. He really didn't understand stuff," she shrugged. "I thought finding you would help. But I didn't have any way to contact you."

The nails of Emily's left hand paid the price for nearly a quarter of a century spent keeping the secret of Angie's existence locked away in her heart. She picked at them relentlessly as she watched the girl, knowing she was waiting for some great apology or words of wisdom, neither of which Emily possessed. "Why are you here now?" she asked, staring at the necklace Angie wore. It was a silver, oval-shaped locket with some sort of etching Emily couldn't identify. "You're not a teenager anymore," Emily needlessly pointed out.

Trying not to be hurt by the somewhat dismissive words, Angie took a deep breath and started over. "I'm not mad at you or anything," she calmly explained, worried that was the main reason Emily was on the defensive. "I'm just curious."

"Don't be curious about me," Emily promptly replied. "The only thing you need to know about me is…" she clenched her jaw, trying not to completely lose it. "I'm not anyone you need in your life," she concluded.

Angie did her level best to keep her emotions in check as she stood there, feeling rather rejected. "I'm sorry I bothered you," she whispered.

Emily stood there, rooted to her spot as Angie turned and moved toward the door. She wanted to stop the young woman and apologize. She wanted to run to her and hug her and have the kind of Hallmark movie reunion that the girl was obviously searching for. But her feet wouldn't budge, and neither would her lips. Twenty-three years ago she'd walked away from the baby she'd given birth to. Now she stood by, silently allowing the girl to exit her life again.

* * *

><p><strong>To be continued…<strong>


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I do not own any rights to the TV series, _Criminal Minds_.

* * *

><p><strong>Angel<strong>

Part 3

By  
>N. J. Borba<p>

* * *

><p>"What were you thinking?" Hotch asked as he stood in the middle of a huge cattle barn in rural Virginia.<p>

Emily's heart was still racing from the ordeal. Adrenaline hadn't stopped pumping since she'd made the decision to go after their UnSub without waiting for backup. "I was thinking that Darren Nelson had just knocked Reid out and was holding JJ against him like a shield. I was also thinking that you, Morgan and Rossi were at least ten minutes away and that JJ and Reid could both be dead in less than five," she informed him. "And we both know neither of them has particularly fond memories about barns."

"So you decided to climb into a hay loft and jump two stories to land on Nelson," Hotch's head shook in disbelief, even though she'd already explained what happened. "You could have been killed pulling a stunt like that, not to mention his gun could have gone off resulting in JJ or Reid being seriously injured or killed."

"And if Morgan had pulled the same stunt you'd be patting him on the back right now for a job well done," she shot back. It had been almost exactly two weeks since she'd met and dismissed her birth child. She'd been slowly spiraling out of control ever since.

Hotch's jaw twitched. "I would be doing no such thing," his tone was a warning.

"Right," Emily mumbled under her breath.

The team leader's eyes narrowed as he regarded her, a little less angry and more concerned by her obstinate behavior. "I'm not sure what's going on with you right now, but if something personal is clouding your judgment and keeping you from performing your job, I suggest you deal with it. Quickly. Your head needs to be absolutely on the case when we're in the field. I think you've been with this team long enough to know that," he said dismissively before turning and walking away from her.

She took a shaky breath, watching him retreat. Picking a fight with Hotch had not been anywhere in her plans for the day, but after risking her life for two friends and being scolded for it, Emily wasn't really thinking straight. She massaged her sore right shoulder as she made her way over to the ambulance and the medics that were tending to Reid and JJ. Rossi approached her, concern reflected in his gaze. "How are they?" Emily asked.

"They'll live," the man replied in a calm manner. "Reid's head is gonna hurt for a while, but I'm pretty sure none of his genius leaked out," Rossi joked. "JJ has a few minor cuts and bruises, but I'd say she's more shaken than anything." He silently regarded her for a moment longer. "How are you? Hotch doesn't seem very happy."

"Is he ever?" Emily asked with a sigh. "I know it was stupid, but I also know Nelson wasn't going down easy, and he wasn't going to wait. I couldn't get a shot without risking JJ, so I did the best I could," she defended her actions again.

Rossi nodded. "I think Hotch knows that, but he's got this protective thing when it comes to his team."

"You mean with the female members of his team," she corrected.

The man nodded and flashed a small grin. "He'll get past it, eventually. But you," Rossi continued to eye her with worry barely masked. "You never did tell me how you are."

"Fine," she rebuffed his concern with a shrug and walked away.

xxx

Morgan entered Dugan's, a small jazz and blues club on the outskirts of DC. He had one mission in mind as he weaved past the glass-top tables toward the row of booths at the back of the establishment. He'd already searched out the other places he thought to find Emily. She wasn't home, at least not answering her door or phone. And she hadn't been at work either, which he thought might be the case. So his mind had turned to the club, the one they'd come to on several occasions together.

It wasn't like the noisy sport's bar the team tended to hang out at for Super Bowl games or other weekends when they tried to forget about the job. Dugan's was a mellow, intimate club run by a man named Al Dugan. He was a former teacher at Juilliard who sometimes had live music at the place, but mostly he played all the old hits on his vintage jukebox turntable. At the moment Ella Fitzgerald was belting out a tune with gusto, and Derek was fairly certain he could make out Louis Armstrong backing her up on trumpet.

He spotted her in the right-hand corner booth; their booth. Emily was hunched over a little, but he could see that her bleary red eyes were focused on a glass in front of her. She looked small sitting there against the high back of the velvet covered seat. Seeing her like that reminded him of earlier when they'd found her squatting in front of their unconscious UnSub, looking fragile and harried. Morgan had walked away earlier, too many eyes on them to show his concern, but now he needed to know for himself that she was okay.

"Hey," he greeted her, standing beside the booth.

"Derek?" she looked up, surprised to see him.

"We're on a first name basis again?" Morgan questioned. Even though he was worried about her at the moment, Derek couldn't help still feeling the sting of her actions and words from two weeks ago. And their difficulties had clearly come across to the team, because Hotch hadn't partnered them on a case in all that time.

She smiled regretfully. "I guess."

There was no mistaking the slight slur of her words. Derek figured she'd had plenty to drink, something he hadn't witnessed since their trip to Vegas. He hadn't given it much thought back then, but now her drinking caused him great concern. Especially coupled with her behavior the last few weeks. Morgan slipped into the booth. It was curved like the letter C and they usually sat huddled together in the middle, but now he seated himself across from her. "I was worried about you," he admitted. "After what happened earlier."

"You'd have done the same thing," Emily challenged.

"Probably," he nodded, easily agreeing. "But I'm not level headed like you. What happened today… it wasn't like you at all. In fact, you haven't been yourself for weeks."

Her lips formed a thin line. "What makes you think you know anything about how I normally act?" She couldn't help remembering Reid once lashing out at her in a similar manner.

Derek did his level best not to react badly to her behavior. She was on the defensive for some reason and he really wanted to get to the bottom of it. "I've worked with you for four years now," he began. "And we've been on much more intimate terms the last several months. I'm pretty sure I know you."

"You don't know anything, Derek," she slurred again. "And it's better if you don't."

His worry doubled as he felt she wasn't making much sense. "Look, Emily… if you don't want to be with me anymore, which you obviously don't, I can deal with that." He didn't say that it still hurt like hell, but Derek figured that was implied. "I want you to be happy, with whom ever. But you just don't seem happy lately, and if that's because this John guy has mistreated you in any way… I swear I'll make him regret it," Morgan vowed.

Emily actually smiled. She never would have figured herself the type to fall for someone so alpha-male protective. "No… Derek, it's not like that at all…" The glass that sat between her hands was half full of amber liquor. Condensation from the ice formed a puddle on the table. She stared at the glass and puddle, mesmerized for some reason. "John and I aren't dating. We're just old friends; old friends who made a very poor choice one night."

He remembered what she'd told him about it, though it had been very briefly summarized. "You got pregnant, right? And had an abortion?" Without the distraction of sex on his mind, Derek finally had a moment to consider how that must have affected her teenage life. "You have regrets about what happened?"

"No," she whispered. "That's not what really happened," Emily finally revealed. "That's just the lie I told myself over, and over, so that I didn't have to deal with the truth."

"What is the truth?" he asked, hoping she'd continue to open up to him. Derek knew the alcohol was certainly helping to loosen her tongue, but he didn't really care as long as he finally got some answers out of her. He figured if he knew the root cause of her issues he might be able to help.

"The truth is, she's alive," Emily informed him. "The baby I gave birth to," she continued. "She came to visit me a few weeks ago."

That was about the last thing Morgan had been expecting. "Had you ever seen her before?" He wasn't sure what to say, but he figured keeping her talking was best.

"Just when she was born," the words were so soft, Emily wasn't sure she was speaking at all. But she continued. "We spent the first twenty-four hours of her life together and then I didn't see her again until two weeks ago," she revealed. "Now she's twenty-three years old, Derek. I have a twenty-three year old daughter," Emily shook her head. "Actually, she's not my daughter. She's the daughter of a man named Scott Hayden, a complete stranger."

"I can't even imagine," he tried to sympathize.

"I told her to get lost," Emily chuckled dryly, morosely.

Derek frowned. "I'm sure that's not true."

"It is true," she spoke a little louder. "Maybe not those exact words, but… I told you to get lost and then I told her the same damn thing."

His chest pounded, aching for her. "Why, Emily?"

"I had to. Attachments make you vulnerable. They can be used against you," she explained things the way she understood them. "That's what I was taught all my life. We moved from city to city, so I schooled myself on how to remain distant, aloof. I learned not to make friends because they'd just be gone soon enough."

It all started to make sense to him, though it tore him up inside to imagine her going through life without ever making many friends. He imagined it had held true for other serious relationships throughout her life. Morgan recalled the day she'd confessed to him about her bad date, about how she'd tried to relate to the person via a book character. He realized now, even for all her intelligence and social graces, she lacked the ability to build and maintain lasting relationships. That made him sadder than he ever could have imagined.

"But not having a connection to anything or anyone in life makes you pretty damn lonely. Doesn't it?" Derek asked.

Her left index finger ran along the rim of the glass in front of her. "When I was seven years old my dad died."

"I thought he and your mother were still together," Morgan was confused.

Emily's head shook. "My step-father, Victor Prentiss, married my mom when I was ten. He's a good man, always treated me like his own child. I even took his name."

"But your real father died when you were seven," Derek repeated, surprised by that information. She seemed to be full of surprises at the moment. And he was finally realizing just how little he knew about her life.

"For several years I didn't even know how he had died," she forged ahead, knowing the alcohol in her system had unleashed the flood gates. "But one night when I was twelve I overheard my parents talking about it. It was the only time I ever heard my mother speak of him. She said he'd been really drunk the night he died. She said he was drunk a lot," Emily sighed. "I don't remember that about him."

He listened, fearing something more was on the horizon. But he gave her an out. "You don't have to tell me all of this now," Derek offered.

"That night I heard my mother say that he'd been depressed a lot and complained about feeling alone," Emily continued, grateful for Derek's presence. She felt it was a gift she didn't deserve. "She used the word suicide." Emily revealed. "I never asked her about it because I was too afraid she'd get mad that I knew. But I think my real father killed himself because he felt lonely. And I'm afraid the same thing could happen to me," she confessed.

Morgan reached for her hand and squeezed it so tight he feared her fingers might break. "You are not alone, Emily. I'm here, no matter how much you push me away."

She looked up into his eyes for the first time since he'd found her at the club. "For how long?"

"As long as you want."

xxx

After Derek forced a whole pot of black coffee down her throat and sent her home in a cab, Emily was feeling somewhat sober. She was with it enough to grab the stack of mail in her box before making her way up to the top floor of her apartment building. Inside the confines of her home she wandered upstairs, still gripping the mail. The stack was tossed onto her bed while she went to take a quick shower. After drying off she slipped into Derek's t-shirt and got in to bed. That's when she noticed an odd piece of mail.

The phone beside her bed rang and she answered it. "Hi."

"You actually picked up," Derek was pleased.

"I knew you'd be checking up on me," she reclined a little against the pillows stacked behind her. Emily closed her eyes and recalled the last time he'd been in bed with her. She actually remembered the morning after a lot better. The way he'd stayed with her all night and then cooked her breakfast. As much as she tried to deny getting close to him, Derek was already very much entrenched in her life.

"Did you take some aspirin or something?" concern continued to lace his tone. "Think you'll be able to sleep?"

She re-opened her eyes. "There's a letter starring at me."

"What?" Morgan was instantly worried that she was imagining things.

"A letter," Emily repeated. "Addressed to me from Scott Hayden."

That name rang a bell and it took just a few seconds for Derek to remember it as the name of the man who had raised her daughter. "So, why is it starring at you?" he inquired. "Why don't you open it?"

"Because I already know what it says," she was slightly abrupt with him. "He's upset for the way I treated Angie."

The female name was foreign to him, but even though Emily hadn't mentioned the girl's name Derek imagined Angie was her daughter. It was still rather strange to think of her being the mother of a twenty-three year old, but he imagined it was even more difficult from Emily's point of view. "I think you should open it," he encouraged.

"I don't know if I can," she revealed a bit more of her insecurity. He made her feel safe enough to do so.

"Open it, Emily," he whispered. "I'll stay on the line if you want."

She nodded, though she knew he couldn't see. "Okay," her fingers slipped beneath the envelope's flap and she carefully opened it. A sheet of paper was pulled free and she read it aloud as the phone remained cradled against her shoulder. "Ms. Emily Prentiss… I'm writing to tell you how disappointed I am about your meeting with Angie a few weeks ago. She told me things didn't go very well between you two," Emily felt her throat tighten upon confirmation of the man's feelings.

"Keep reading," Morgan prompted.

Emily swallowed. "Maybe seeing her all grown up like that was too much for you to handle at once. I think I can understand how that might feel. That's why I've enclosed some items that I hope will help," she finished, the only other writing being his name at the bottom of the page.

Derek remained supportive. "What did he send?"

Placing the paper down on her bed, Emily bravely peered inside the envelope. Her left hand reached in and pulled out the items. "Pictures," she whispered. "There's…" Emily actually smiled at the cherub face of a dark-eyed child with porcelain skin and tiny white teeth. She flipped the photo over. "Angie, age two."

"Bet she was a real sweetheart," Morgan said, hoping to keep Emily engaged.

"She's adorable," Emily squeezed the words past her lips as she took another picture in hand. "There's another one," she told him. "Angie's missing a tooth." On the back it said much the same. "Angie, age five… lost her first tooth yesterday and the tooth fairy left her fifty cents. She was thrilled."

He heard the crack in her voice as she read those last few words. "You okay?"

"No," Emily hoarsely replied.

"Want me to come over?" Derek asked.

"No," she said again.

Morgan resisted his first gut reaction to think there was rejection in her tone. He knew it was going to take a lot more than one evening to build a better foundation to their relationship, and he even respected the fact she'd said no. "Okay, then I'll say good night now."

"Good night, Derek," she replied before ending the call.

Emily eventually fell asleep while gazing at the grinning, missing toothed little girl.

* * *

><p><strong>To be continued…<strong>


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I do not own any rights to the TV series, _Criminal Minds_.

* * *

><p><strong>Angel<strong>

Part 4

By  
>N. J. Borba<p>

* * *

><p>Emily faced her Monday morning with a slightly clearer head than the previous week. Talking everything out with Derek had helped immensely, and so had Scott Hayden's letter and pictures. She'd even received another one on Saturday, though she hadn't opened it yet. For some reason it was something Emily wanted to do in Derek's presence; something she wanted to share with him. She hoped it would be a happy moment, not quite as depressing as their previous encounters.<p>

"Morning," Reid greeted as he walked by her to his desk.

"Good morning," Emily replied as cheerily as possible.

Spencer Reid dropped his messenger bag on the floor by his desk and sat. He smiled at his co-worker for a long time before finally speaking again. "Did you have a nice weekend?"

She nodded half-heartedly. But Emily tried to remain positive as she hoped to insert herself back into the real world. The people on her BAU team were some of the best friends she'd ever had in life. And fostering better relationships with all of them was something she dearly wanted. "It was kind of uneventful," she finally revealed a little more. "How about you, any hot dates?" she teased.

His face turned rosy almost instantly. "Well, yes…" he sounded a little hesitant. "I mean, not that it was hot or… well, it was a nice date. Very nice."

"You really went on a date?" Emily asked.

He was too embarrassed to be offended by her surprised tone. "I figured you already knew."

"How would I know if you didn't tell me?" she grinned, proud and happy for their resident genius. For all the troubles she had with making and maintaining friendships, Emily knew Reid had just as many issues in that area. If not more.

"Well, because… you know," he spoke in the vaguest terms possible.

She shrugged. "Know what?"

"I thought you and Angie were reconnecting now that she's attending Georgetown Law School," Reid said.

Hearing the girl's name connected to that school was a first for her. All Emily really knew was that Scott had mentioned Angie's interest in the law. Now she'd just discovered that the girl was actually attending law school, and in her own back yard no less. "We haven't actually had time to talk much," she lamely replied. "But I'm not sure what Angie has to do with you going out on a…" Emily's face paled as she finally understood. "You went out on a date with my… cousin?"

"Hi, Spencer," a friendly female voice called out from nearby.

Emily's head turned, recognizing the soft yet smoky voice of the baby she'd given up at birth; the voice she'd heard only once before. She was at a complete loss for words when Angie walked by her to greet Reid. The young doctor smiled warmly, took the girl's hands in his and kissed her cheek. Emily suddenly felt like she'd been transported to some bizarre dream state in which she could only watch what was going on, having no control over the events.

"I was just telling Emily about our date over the weekend," Reid informed the young woman. "I figured you would have already mentioned it to her."

Angie stared at the woman whom she'd only recently discovered to be her birth mother. She held no anger for the woman, more regret than anything. "Emily and I have never been very close," she maintained the lie. "There's so many years between us, and we never saw each other much," Angie concluded.

"Oh," Spencer nodded.

There was really nothing Emily could say to any of what was going on. But the dream continued to get even weirder as she watched Hotch exit his office and walk down into the bullpen to join them. "You must be Emily's cousin, Angie? I'm Aaron Hotchner," the team leader took the girl's hand and shook it. He even flashed a small smile her way. "Reid mentioned that you were studying law and might want to pick my brain about my time as a prosecutor?"

"I'd love to," Angie agreed. "But I don't want to bother you. I know you're busy."

"Not at the moment," Hotch replied. "I have about a half hour before our morning meeting. Why don't we talk in my office," he suggested.

Again Emily could only watch as the odd scenario unfolded in front of her. Hotch being overly friendly to her cousin just a few days after he'd nearly ripped her head off for the stunt she'd pulled on their case. The only thing she could think was that maybe it was his way of apologizing, in some roundabout manner. She still couldn't wrap her head around it all, though, which was why she grabbed the letter she'd been holding back on reading. Searching for some excuse, Emily stuffed it inside the nearest file folder she could find. "I, uh…" she stumbled over her words as she faced Reid. "I have this file that Morgan has been waiting for. I really need to get it to him."

With that she fled for Derek's office.

xxx

Emily plopped down in the chair across from Derek's desk and dropped the file folder onto her lap. "Reid is dating my daughter."

His brows bunched together. "Is that the punch line of some sort of joke?"

"Yeah," she nodded. "The joke is my life." Emily rested her elbows on the edge of his desk and ran both hands through her hair. "If the two of them get married Reid would be my son-in-law. And if they have kids I'll be a grandmother. I'm only thirty-nine years old, Derek. I can't be a grandmother yet."

Morgan barely managed to suppress the laughter in his throat. "Okay, first of all… take a deep breath," he instructed, watching and waiting until she followed his orders. "Now, let's back up to a point in time before they get married and start having babies."

"He kissed her on the cheek and I started to freak out," Emily noted.

Derek smiled. "Why do you think you got uncomfortable about that?"

"Oh, jeez…" she rolled her eyes and sat back in the chair. "You sound like a therapist."

"I do?" he asked. Morgan's only intent had been to help her get to the root of what was bothering her. "In that case, I happen to know a few excellent stress relief exercises we could perform," he hinted, still holding on to the hope that they might find their way back to a more intimate kind of relationship.

His suggestion caused her to smile. But the smile faded quickly as she became reflective again. "Do you ever feel like our relationship has regressed?"

A nod came in response. "But maybe that's a good thing," Morgan tried to remain optimistic, which was a rather new concept for him. "Maybe it's good that all of this happened, because it means we can start over and try to build something new between us; take it slow this time," he suggested.

"You'd really be willing to do that?" she asked.

"If it means being in your life as more than just someone I work with then, yes, definitely," he agreed.

"So, do you have any idea why I freaked out about Reid kissing my…" it was still strange to even think about the girl being her daughter. So she settled on, "Angie?" Emily thought it over herself. "I guess it could be an age thing. He is older than her."

He nodded again. "Only by five years," Derek pointed out. "And they are both consenting adults."

"What about Angie?" she persisted. "Do you think she's only dating Reid in order to get to me?"

Morgan smiled knowingly as he regarded her. "I haven't met the girl so I couldn't really say what her intentions are. But I think it's pretty obvious what's going on with you. Maybe you didn't raise her, Emily, but it's a natural instinct for parents to love and want to protect their children. At least the good ones feel that way. In my opinion, your concern for both Angie and Reid displays nothing but good parenting qualities."

"Right, we'll just forget the part where I told her not to be interested in me, and also the part in which we haven't spoken for several weeks since," Emily sighed.

"Next step in your therapy process is to stop being so hard on yourself."

"Easier said than done," Emily mumbled, but caved a little. "So, what I do now?"

"What do you think you should do?" he countered.

Her eyes rolled again. "You sure you didn't minor in psychology?"

"Byproduct of the profiling job," he shrugged. "And you're avoiding the question. Do you think maybe you should try talking to Angie again?"

"No."

"Okay, how about confiding in Reid about Angie being your daughter?"

"I don't think so."

Derek sighed, realizing she wasn't going to be so easily cajoled into talking to anyone but him. Part of him liked that, her dependence on him. But most of his rational brain knew she needed to start working on building stronger relationships with other people beside him. "How about talking to your mother?"

"You've got to be kidding me," she gave him a dismissive shake of the head.

"Is there anyone else you'd feel comfortable talking to about this?"

"I told Rossi…"

"You did?" Derek was curious about how that had come to pass.

She flashed him a half smile. "It was all wrapped up in Matthew's case, and you weren't exactly on my side back then."

"It was never about sides, Emily. It was about belief."

"Fair enough," Emily let it drop. "Don't be so upset. Rossi mostly guessed. He dragged what little he could out of me, an altered version of the truth."

Morgan's little green monster retreated. He knew she was trying very hard, and he didn't want her to think she was failing in any way. "I don't want you to push yourself into talking to anyone. Just promise me you'll think about it, okay?"

"I will," she promised. Her eyes drifted down to the file on her lap, which had been forgotten for a short time. Emily finally pulled the letter free and held it out toward Derek. "This came for me over the weekend. I was wondering if you'd read it to me?" she asked.

Derek held the envelope, realizing how much trust she was putting in him. "I'd be honored." He tore open the item and began reading Scott Hayden's words aloud. They were ordered in list form; highlights from the girl's life. Some good, some sad. How she'd stayed in her room for a whole week after the death of her mother. A broken wrist in second grade from falling off the monkey bars. Karate class and piano lessons. There was even a blurb about her first dance in junior high. "You okay?" Morgan asked when he was done.

She nodded. "Thank you," Emily said, though the words seemed inadequate recompense for his gift of friendship.

xxx

Emily stood on the front steps that lead to the old stone church's entrance. Baltimore was a place she hadn't visited in a while; a place she tried to avoid due to the memories that lingered there for her. Funny that she'd ended up at the BAU in Quantico, Virginia – not too far across state lines from Maryland. In fact, one of the first cases she'd worked at the BAU had involved the Russian Mob in Baltimore. She'd actually chosen to work with her mother during that case rather than be sent to the city, which was telling.

Derek had been right about talking to someone besides him. Thankfully the work day had been slow enough for her to leave early.

As she entered through the thick oak doors of the church, the memories all came back; long buried in her head as well as her heart. Emily stopped just inside the nave, reflexively dipping her fingers in the holy water tureen and crossing herself. Some things were so ingrained in a person that they were never forgotten. Each small step she took down the center aisle led her much deeper into the past, but it was a gentle male voice that made her journey complete.

"Hello, Emily," a short, slender man greeted her.

She turned to spot him on her left. He wore a clerical collar along with blue jeans; not typical priest attire. Emily knew that all too well from her years of Catholic education and mass attendance. But this rosy cheeked old man, with his balding head, warm smile and curious eyes, was anything but typical. She'd discovered that many years ago. "Father Quinn," her words were soft, somewhat surprised. "You're still…"

"Alive?" he asked with a brighter grin.

"_Here_, I was going to say," Emily countered. But his jocular nature had already put her at ease, just as it had twenty four years ago.

"It's certainly been a while since your last visit, child," he added, motioning her over to where he sat in the front pew.

A few uncertain steps were taken toward him as she asked, "You remember me?"

"Of course, child," he intoned. "There are people in our lives that come and go, but some we never forget." Father Quinn watched her for a few more moments as she finally sat down near him. "Did she find you?" the kindly priest asked.

"Did who find me?" Emily tensed again.

His smile returned. "Young Angela… she's been looking for you for a while now," he informed her.

"And you told her where to look," Emily guessed.

"No, child," his head shook. "I made a promise that your secret would always be safe with me and I have never betrayed that," he insisted.

Emily was not convinced. "But how do you even know that Angie is the baby I had? I never told you that. I just left her here and ran away," she revealed, having never actually spoken the truth of those words aloud before.

"Child, you came here every day after school to talk with me about what was going on. Every day for six months, and then one night I find a baby in my church and I never see or hear from you again. What did you think I'd conclude? You only left her here because you knew I'd look after her; find her a good, safe place to grow up," Quinn continued. "In fact, I had parents in mind before you ever left her here."

"The Hayden's," she whispered.

He nodded. "Scott and Miranda were married in this very church some five years before you first came to see me," Quinn explained. "They agonized for many years over not being able to have a child of their own, and I counseled them on their troubles numerous times. When I first laid Angela in their arms they were besotted. I knew that I'd made the right choice. And that you, as well, had made the right choice," he insisted. "It took several months to have the baby officially declared abandoned and available for adoption," Quinn continued.

A spike of pain stabbed Emily upon hearing the word: _abandoned_. But she kept listening.

"Under my advisement, Scott and Miranda were able to keep the baby with them during that entire period. They named the child and had her baptized before the adoption was ever legal," he concluded.

"And you really never told them about me?"

"Only that you had wanted to do the best thing for your child," Father Quinn replied. "But there were times I wanted to tell young Angela about you. When she reached high school the poor girl reminded me so much of you. She was a lost soul with no female role model in her life. And Miranda's death left Scott raw for so many years," he shook his head. "Have you spoken to Angela about any of that?"

She swallowed. "No, we've barely spoken at all. I told her it would be best if we didn't have a relationship," Emily confessed.

"May I ask why, child?"

"Because…" Emily sighed heavily. "I've done a lot in the years since you knew me. The job I work is very dangerous and there are people out there who might want to hurt anyone I'm close to, in order to hurt me."

"So you're trying to protect her?" Quinn surmised. "That is admirable, but do you think it might also be an excuse?" he pushed, but didn't wait for an answer. "Angela is an adult now. She knows the risks life holds, and contacting you was one of the biggest risks she's ever taken. You're worried about her, which tells me you care about her, which means you are a good role model even if you don't yet realize it."

Emily sighed again. "You sound like Derek."

His eyes twinkled with delight. "And who is this Derek fellow?"

"A good friend," she smiled a little just to say those words.

Quinn nodded. "Well, child, I am very glad to know you've finally made some good friends in your life. Now, perhaps, you can work to build a relationship with your daughter?"

"But how?" she asked in a whisper.

"I find that talking is always a good start," the priest smiled.

The gentle vibration of the cell phone in her jacket pocket brought Emily fully into the present. She apologized to father Quinn before glancing at the screen. Emily thought surely it was about a case, but was surprised to see the name of her caller. Without too much effort she answered with a simple, "Hello."

"Emily," Angela's voice wavered with emotion. "I wasn't sure who to call, but… John is in the hospital. I thought since you…"

"I'll be right there," Emily cut her off before jetting out of the church.

* * *

><p><strong>To be continued…<strong>


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I do not own any rights to the TV series, _Criminal Minds_.

* * *

><p><strong>Angel<strong>

Part 5

By  
>N. J. Borba<p>

* * *

><p>Upon entering the hospital room, Emily instantly felt sick to her stomach. Seeing her old friend hooked to so many machines broke her heart. His gaunt face and sunken eyes made her want to scream. Emily wondered why she'd been able to save his life earlier in the year but not again, not this time. A different kind of guilt gnawed at her as well, because she was happy she hadn't been there to watch Mathew deteriorate in a similar manner. Having seen him in the morgue had been bad enough.<p>

Emily wasn't sure who she felt worse for, though, John or the young woman curled up in a chair beside his bed. Angie glanced her way as Emily moved further into the room. The girl stayed in her seat, looking worried and fragile. "He's asleep," she whispered.

"That's probably a good thing," Emily said as she pulled a chair up to the other side of John's bed. After placing her purse on the floor and sitting down, she couldn't help regard the young woman across from her. Upon their first meeting Emily had noticed only herself and John in the girl's face. Now, in the dimmer light with shadows cast about the room, Emily could see bits of Elizabeth Prentiss in the girl. Even some of the grandfather she'd loved dearly and visited often in the Alps.

"He's on some pretty heavy medication," Angie spoke again, nervously biting her bottom lip. "The nurses asked me a lot of questions I didn't know how to answer. Apparently he put down my name as a contact and that I'm his daughter. I guess the nurses must think it strange I don't know much about him."

Emily shook her head. "I'm sure they just think you're upset by all this," she tried to reassure the girl.

Angie nodded a little. "I'm sorry I bothered you. I thought about calling my dad, but I don't really want to put any of this on him."

"It's okay," Emily replied. "I understand." She wondered if Angie knew her father had been in touch with her, writing letters about the girl's childhood. It didn't seem like a good time to bring it up so she tried to fish for as much information as she could about John's condition. "Did the doctor or nurses say anything about his condition?"

"Machines are keeping liver function working," Angie's voice was a whisper again. "But his heart is weak. And his lungs, kidneys… the chemo treatments apparently made his whole system weaker. They doubt he'll make it through the night."

As that grim news sunk in, John's fifteen-year-old face flashed in front of Emily's eyes. She recalled that their first meeting had been at some Embassy gathering their parents had dragged them to. She'd been left sitting at a table, alone and dressed in a black skirt and white blouse of her mother's choosing. As the grownups retired to the study for drinks, Emily wandered the foreign house and discovered a boy her age standing in a dark hallway. His suit had looked about two sizes too small for him, but she'd smiled and approached him.

"_Want to join me?" she asked, waving a cigarette in his face. It was from a stash she'd taken out of her father's library. The boy followed her to the home's back patio and she started the introductions. "I'm Emily, what's your name?"_

"_Matthew Benton," he replied._

"_So formal," she teased while lighting up. Emily took a few puffs and held it toward him. "Want some?"_

_He took the offering and inhaled deeply. Then he nearly choked to death, dropping the cigarette and doubling over._

"_Amateur," another voice joined their private gathering._

_Emily's eyes instantly locked with the dark-eyed stranger. "And I suppose you're some expert with all of your, what… fifteen years of experience?" she challenged._

"_Same as you, Emily Prentiss," he shot back._

_She didn't like that he seemed to have an advantage over her, already knowing her name. "Do you have a name, expert?"_

"_John Cooley."_

He'd been a typical looking rich kid, clean cut with jacket and tie all nicely done up. And she'd soon learned of his rebellious streak. Matthew had one as well, though it took some time for him to grow into it. The three of them had been so full of life back then. Full of a lot of anger, too, but that had actually been the glue that held them together. Emily had quickly discovered that both boys wore tough masks in public. But each had a kind, vulnerable heart.

They'd bonded over their mutual hatred of the nomadic, diplomatic lifestyle their parents had signed them up for. They hadn't been very original in their rebellion, though. Most of which consisted of cigarettes and drinking, because skipping school or mass were far greater sins in their parent's eyes.

"I'm sorry…" John moaned from his bed, eyes half open in slits.

Emily was somewhat roused from the past as she sat forward and took his hand in hers. She was suddenly reminded of the picture she still carried with her. The one with Matthew, John and her standing in a line, their hands clasped and held up in triumphant manner. They'd always talked at length about how much better they'd be at life than their parents. They were going to triumph over their parent's oppression. But mostly they'd just made a mess of their lives. "Hey," she spoke softly to him. "Don't talk, just rest."

"I'm sorry, Emily," he didn't seem to hear her, or was ignoring her. "I should have been there for you. You must have been so scared. You always pretended to be tough, but Matthew and I both knew you were just as vulnerable as we were. Always thinking we had everything planned out… gonna be better than our parents…"

She listened to him ramble. No doubt the drug effects were causing most of his drifting thoughts to come out in word form. Emily decided to play along. "We didn't know shit about life, did we?" she chuckled softly, shaking her head. "Big ideas, but no follow through." When she looked to him Emily found he'd drifted back to sleep. Her eyes rose to meet Angie. "You should go home, get some sleep," Emily instructed. "He could be like this all night."

"I'd rather stay," Angie's response was defiant.

"There's one thing John and I no doubt passed along to you," Emily said in the form of a lament. "Both of us were always too stubborn to know when to give in."

The girl almost smiled. "My dad always said that stubbornness was something that must have been genetic, not like him or my mom at all."

A smile did sprout on Emily's visage. "Sorry about that."

Neither one of them spoke again for hours, each dozing off at various intervals. John was awake and asleep in random spurts all through the night. But at three in the morning he woke with eyes wide open, staring intently at Emily. "Don't ever tell her she was a mistake," he spoke clearly. "Maybe we were stupid kids who did something we weren't ready for, and maybe we did it for a dumb reason… but you had a choice. And you chose to save her life, Emily. That wasn't a mistake."

The heart monitor gave a slow steady beep after that. A nurse entered the room, followed quickly by two other nurses and a doctor. Emily didn't watch what they were doing as they tended to John. She knew as soon as he'd spoken the last word that he was gone. The girl across from her was crying and Emily didn't know what to do for her, how to comfort her. She'd just lost a man she'd barely known. But he'd been a huge part of her quest to find her real parents, and losing him was a definite blow.

A weary medical team left John in the bed after almost ten minutes of trying to resuscitate him. Nothing more could be done. They left him with eyes still open, staring at nothing. Emily went to him and closed them. She smoothed a hand gently over his bald head, remembering how she'd done a similar thing for Matthew. It didn't seem possible that the two of them were gone now. But it did feel like her childhood was finally, truly over.

"I'm not very good at this," Angie said from her spot across the room.

Emily faced her. "Who is?" Even with all the death she saw on a daily basis, it was never easy.

"My mom was in a car accident," the younger woman kept speaking as she wrung her hands and stood beside John's bed. "I stayed with a neighbor lady while my dad went to the hospital. He came home and told me she was dead. I spent the whole week in my room, because…" she took a shaky breath. "She was always the one to wake me up in the morning for school. That's the only thing I remember about her now, coming into my room and singing this silly song… wake up, wake up you sleep head…" Angie swallowed. "For seven days I didn't know how to start my day without her."

With a heavy heart Emily could only think to say, "I'm sorry," the universally lame response to someone's loss.

Angie nodded, swiped the tears from her cheeks and grabbed her things. "If you decide to have a funeral or memorial for him, you'll let me know?"

"Sure," Emily replied as she watched the girl exit her life again.

xxx

Emily thanked the housekeeper who waved a hand toward the study where her mother supposedly was. As she walked down the long hall that was sheathed in renaissance art, Emily had doubts about what she was about to do. John's death and her continued inability to function around Angie had led her to her mother's doorstep. It seemed strange to want to talk to the one person she'd never felt comfortable talking to before. And yet, she knew her mother was the only person she could get answers from at the moment.

It was six in the morning and she hadn't gone home to sleep or change since spending the whole night in the hospital. But if she turned back now, Emily knew the courage would never get worked up again. She found the older woman at her desk, a plate of breakfast untouched beside her. Half a bagel, poached egg and a bowl of fruit; it was pretty much the same breakfast she'd been eating for years. Emily somewhat envied the kind of regiment her mother possessed. She wished there was something constant in her own life.

Elizabeth looked up. "Emily?" she was surprised to see her daughter. Their encounters the last few years had been few. "What are you doing here…" she asked, noticing her daughter's red eyes and disheveled appearance. "…so early?" the ambassador added, not wanting to sound ungrateful for the visit.

"Do you remember John Cooley?" Emily asked, sliding in to a chair across from her mother.

The ambassador sat back a little and removed her reading glasses. "Jared and Annabel's son," she nodded. "Jared and I worked together in Rome. I felt awful when I heard the two of them had been killed in a train accident outside of Paris a few years back."

A slow nod came from Emily. "Well, John's dead now as well," she revealed. "I was with him this morning when he passed."

"That's terrible," Liz sounded genuinely regretful. "The two of you were friends in Rome, weren't you, along with that Benton boy?"

"I'm impressed you were aware of that," Emily noted.

"I know more than you think," Elizabeth responded. "I know you hung out with those boys quite a lot. I even know about you taking your father's cigarettes to smoke."

Emily chuckled mirthlessly. "Wow, I feel like I should award you a Mother of the Year plaque for your level of awareness," she snapped.

"I can tell you're upset right now," the elder Prentiss female did not rise to her daughter's challenge. She had no desire to rehash old arguments. "You've just lost an old friend of yours, so I'll forgive the sarcasm this time."

"The hell with sarcasm, Mother," Emily growled. "You don't know anything about what happened when I was fifteen. You know very little about my life at all, because you never really cared. I was just sort of an ornament for you to parade around. Having a family made you look more human, didn't it?"

Liz frowned. "I'll not have you talk to me like this in my home."

"Fine," Emily searched through her purse for the photo that she'd been clinging to for days. "I'm sorry I lost my temper, but I do want to finally tell you the truth about something. Why, I'm not sure? Maybe because it's your right," she shrugged, handing the picture over. "Or maybe it's to clear my conscious."

The older woman stared at the photograph. "How old were you here? Five or six?"

"That's not me, mother. Read the back," Emily instructed.

"Angie?" Liz looked to her daughter with curious eyes. "Who's Angie?"

"My daughter."

A shake of the ambassador's head was followed quickly by her shoving the picture back across her desk to Emily. "I'm not sure what stage of grief this is, but wanting me to believe you have a five year old daughter that I never knew about… that's rather absurd, don't you think?"

Emily ran her tongue along her bottom lip and smiled. "I don't have a five year old daughter, mother. That was taken when she was five, but now she's twenty-three. I got pregnant when I was fifteen and gave birth to her about seven months after my sixteenth birthday," she clarified.

"That's impossible," Elizabeth responded.

"Remember how I pestered you into letting me attend that boarding school in Baltimore?" Emily asked, hoping to spark her mother's memory. "Remember how you and daddy never came to visit me there that year? Thanksgiving, Christmas, Easter… you always had some function to attend and couldn't make the trip. And it wasn't until we moved to New York that following summer that you finally saw me again. That makes almost ten months in which we didn't see each other. Plenty time for me to have a baby."

Elizabeth stared at her uneaten food. "You need to leave now."

"But I'm not done," Emily stood her ground. "I just revealed my deepest secret to you because I couldn't walk around with it any longer. And I was hoping you might reveal something to me in return, maybe something you've wanted to get off your chest for years. Like the real reason daddy killed himself."

"What?" Liz was shocked. "Why would you say that? Your father's death was an accident."

"No, he was depressed," Emily kept pushing. "I heard you say so yourself once. I overheard you."

The ambassador sat rigidly in her chair. "You must have misinterpreted."

"Depression is a serious medical condition, mother. It's nothing to be ashamed of."

"It was then," the woman broke a little. "It wasn't widely recognized years ago."

"But he _was_ depressed and he drank to try to cover that, didn't he?" Emily persisted. "Don't you think that's something I had a right to know? That is a huge part of my medical background. Those things can be genetic, mother. And I've been unhappy for a long time," she confessed. "I isolate myself from people, I've lied for so many years about what happened with Angie, and I drink to numb it all."

"I suppose that's my fault?" Liz was defensive again.

Emily pursed her lips. "I didn't say that, but…"

"No," Elizabeth stopped her. "I'll not have you say these things. I did the best I could for you and now I see all I've received back from you is lies. You have a child? You got me to send you to a school across the ocean so you could perpetrate that lie? You've brought this all on yourself, Emily. You can't hide behind your father's illness and drinking and think that will explain it all away. You're not a child any longer and I don't have to sit here and have you heap this on me."

"I understand," Emily rose to her feet as that lie pushed through her mouth. She didn't really understand, but she was done talking to the brick wall her mother always threw up when it came to discussing anything of real merit. "Thanks for this little chat, mother. It was far more enlightening than I thought it would be. Clearly you take no blame in any of this, just like you never have. It's always my fault."

"Please," Liz sighed. "That dramatic martyr routine was hardly amusing when you were a teenager."

A dry chuckle escaped Emily's throat. "I'm sorry I bothered you this morning." With that she left her mother to her breakfast and documents. But the irony of those final words that had escaped her lips was not lost on Emily. It was almost like the conversation she'd first had with Angie, the girl searching for answers, and the mother pushing her away. It was a cycle of behavior she couldn't seem to overcome.

But there was one way to try. The same way as always.

xxx

Derek found her sprawled on the floor of her living room after having to force her front door open. At ten o'clock in the morning when she hadn't shown for their morning team meeting, Morgan had been worried. He'd called numerous times to no avail. By noon he'd decided to take his lunch break to look for her, stopping at the usual spots. She wasn't at Dugan's and her car was in the parking garage of her apartment building. So he'd knocked until his knuckles grew numb. Then he'd forced the door.

"Emily?" he called to her limp form. Derek sat her up, propping her against his side. "Come on, it's time to wake up."

"Noff," she moaned in protest. Derek's heart leapt into his throat, grateful that she was at least alive.

The smell of alcohol was thick in the room. A red wine stain marred the white carpet. And an empty bottle of vodka resided on the glass coffee table. At two o'clock in the afternoon she was passed out drunk. But he couldn't think to berate her at the moment, because he feared for her life. "Okay, it's shower time," he hefted her into his arms, stood and made his way upstairs. They'd shared her shower before under much nicer circumstance. This time he climbed in with her, both fully clothed, and turned on the coldest water possible.

Another groan of protest escaped, but she could do nothing to stop the spray of freezing water. Emily opened her eyes, doubled over and expelled the meager contents of her stomach into the tub and down her front. "Ima mesh," her words were barely distinguishable.

"Yes, you are," Derek agreed as he finally decided to strip her clothes off. There were other times he'd very much enjoyed that pleasure, but this was not one of them as he struggled to separate a nearly comatose Emily from her wet, clingy clothing.

With success finally on his side, Derek took the time to gently wash the stink of alcohol and puke from her body. Then he wrapped her in a robe and plopped her onto the queen sized bed in her room. He ditched his wet clothing as well and found a pair of sweats and t-shirt he'd left there weeks ago. Once dry and changed, Derek sat down on her bed and pressed two fingers against her neck to check for a pulse. "John's dead," she whispered, eyes closed and face smashed against a pillow.

"John Cooley?" Derek ran a hand over her damp hair. "Your friend?" he watched her nod. "I'm sorry, Emily."

"Don't be sorry," she replied wearily. "He's the lucky one."

"Don't say that, Emily. Please don't."

"Angie's not lucky. She lost her mother and now John. And I should have hugged her or something, but I just stood there and did nothing. I'm not any kind of mother to her…" Emily was silent for a long time after that and Derek figured she'd passed out again. But he was mistaken when she spoke a few more words. "Why do I keep thinking this will help?" She rolled on to her back and opened her eyes so she could face him. "Why does the first drink taste like it will solve everything?"

"Because you're an addict, Emily," he gave it to her straight, bushing wet hair away from her eyes.

"Why do you keep picking me up and dusting me off?"

He smiled. "Guess I've gotten used to having you in my life."

She turned to her side again. "You could do better."

Derek settled himself on to the bed beside her, curving his body to mold against her back. He slung a protective arm around her waist, careful not to put too much pressure on her in case there was anything left in her stomach that wanted to make its way out. "You need to get some help, Emily. More than just talking to me."

"I talked to my mother," she whispered. "Didn't help."

"I mean a doctor," he countered, figuring a lot of this round was due to that conversation with her mother. "Or a support group… something like that."

"Okay…" her breathing slowed so quickly that Derek was alarmed. But he felt for her pulse again and was satisfied that she had just completely passed out. Derek stayed there with her, not worried about calling into work. He simply prayed that her agreement a second ago would actually be followed through.

"Rest now," he whispered while pressing a kiss to her cheek.

* * *

><p><strong>To be continued…<strong>


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I do not own any rights to the TV series, _Criminal Minds_.

* * *

><p><strong>Angel<strong>

Part 6

By  
>N. J. Borba<p>

* * *

><p>"I'm an alcoholic," Emily bravely informed the group.<p>

The words sounded strange to her, but truthful. She watched their faces, wondering what they were thinking. Saying those words had been difficult, but not as upsetting as imagining the group having to learn of her death. It was Friday morning, just a few days after one of her worst drinking binges, and Emily had a feeling that if Derek hadn't shown up when he did, the week could have ended a lot worse.

"Are you okay?" JJ was the first to respond.

Emily shook her head. "Not for a while now," she replied. Every eye was still aimed her way. "I know we work a very stressful job, and I also know you all have families and private lives away from this place. I don't want to put any more stress on any of you, so you can feel free to tell me if I'm over stepping here." Emily paused, nervous about their reactions. "I just feel safer telling you guys this than I would a room full of strangers."

The room was quiet as they digested her words. "We put our lives on the line for complete strangers every day," Rossi finally spoke. "I think I speak for the whole group here when I say we'd just as willingly support you in any way possible."

"An ear to bend," JJ immediately offered.

"Retail therapy shopping pal," Garcia added.

"Advice from someone who…" Reid hesitated a second, "Can relate."

Spencer's offer touched her deepest, because Emily knew he'd dealt with his own issues of addiction a few years back. "I plan to take you up on all of those offers," she nodded, catching Derek's eye specifically. He'd already provided the greatest support imaginable.

"Do you need some time off?" Hotch asked.

Worry coursed through her body as she feared he might demand she take time away from the job. "I know I've demonstrated some erratic behavior recently, but I think this job is one of the few things keeping me from completely unspooling. I don't want to lose it," she let the team leader know.

Hotch would've preferred a more private setting for the conversation, but he nodded. "We'll take it a day at a time," he offered.

"You know…" JJ piped in again. "I've heard that spending time with kids and pets can often reduce stress," she said, hoping to ease some of the room's tension. "So, anytime you'd like to babysit, Will and I would be eternally grateful for a night off."

The room filled with soft laughter. Emily found it a nice contrast to the morning she'd spend worrying about how to tell them. It seemed the plain, simple true had been best. It was a concept she was slowly learning to embrace. They trickled out of the conference room, not wanting to overwhelm her. Reid stayed behind, worry etched across his youthful forehead. "I meant what I said," he reiterated.

"And you have no idea how much that means to me," Emily smiled for him.

He grinned as well. "I believe your cousin would also be willing to support you. She asks me stuff about you all the time. I think she'd really like to know you better."

Curiosity got the better of her. "I gather that means the two of you are still seeing each other?"

His cheeks flushed a little. "I like her. She doesn't think it's odd when I talk about random facts. She's smart and funny. Actually reminds me a lot of you," Reid instantly felt embarrassed for saying that. "I don't mean that I ever… you've always been like a sister to me," he stammered. "Angie is definitely not like a sister."

"Enough said, Reid," Emily stopped him. "I'm glad you two have become… friends," she did her best to sound diplomatic about the situation. "And I'll definitely give your advice some thought." She took a cleansing breath, already thinking it over. "I really would like to know Angie better, too."

Reid smiled again. "Then talk to her."

As Emily watched him exit the conference room she wished it could be that easy. "He's right," Derek said, appearing at the open door. He moved into the room and sat beside her, even placed his hand on her thigh. Morgan didn't want to sneak around their relationship any longer. "I think you know that Angie walking into your life has been the catalyst for most of this," he stated. "And talking to her will help."

"Everyone seems to think talking helps," Emily sighed, still unsettled by her mother's dismissal.

"Didn't it help just now?" Morgan challenged.

She nodded. "Yes, but…" Emily stalled. "I don't want to disappoint Angie," she finally confessed her greatest fear. He was right about talking being a help, but in this case that concept was easier understood than acted upon. "How about a smaller first step?"

"Like what?" he was game, as long as it meant he never had to find her at death's door again.

"Scott Hayden sent me another letter," she revealed. "He wants to meet for dinner tonight. I've been debating it the last few days, especially after everything that's happened this week. But now I think it might be another positive step."

"Then you should go," Morgan encouraged.

xxx

She entered the busy Italian restaurant and headed toward the hostess. "I'm meeting Scott Hayden."

The young blonde woman nodded. "Right this way," she ushered Emily along, passing through the throng of Friday night diners. At a small table by the window, Emily spotted the man she'd briefly spoken to over a month ago.

"Ms. Prentiss?" Scott stood, neatly attired in dark slacks and a navy sweater. He waited as the hostess retreated before saying anything more. "This is a surprise."

Emily easily noticed that the expression on his face was indeed one of curiosity. "May I sit?" she asked. He nodded and they each settled into high-backed chairs. "You weren't expecting me here, were you?" she finally inquired.

His head shook. "Angie invited me for dinner," the man informed her. "But I think it's good that she asked you as well," he added.

Confusion reigned as Emily further tried to figure out the mystery. "So, the letter you sent…"

"What letter?" Scott instantly questioned.

"The most recent one," Emily fished it out of her bag. "You haven't sent me any letters, have you?"

Scott's salt and pepper hair waved a little as his head shook. He took the letter she'd produced, unfolded it and sighed. "I'm sorry for the confusion." He smoothed the pages and laid them out on the table between the two of them. "But this is my daughter's handwriting," he revealed.

"Well, this is awkward," Emily sighed.

He chuckled. "This actually isn't the first time Angie's done something like this. In fourth grade she set me up with her piano teacher, Miss Davis. In high school it was the single mother of a school friend, and in college she even arranged for me to casually meet her English Lit professor," he explained. "She's been trying to find me a wife for many years now. I guess I shouldn't be surprised she'd try with you."

Emily couldn't help sympathizing with the girl. "I guess I'm flattered that Angie would want us to… but I'm not…"

"Interested?" he nodded understandingly. "Don't worry, Ms. Prentiss. I'm not interested in you either. At least not romantically."

Relief flooded her. "Please, call me Emily."

"If you'll call me Scott," the man offered.

With a nod she carefully folded the letter back up. "I'm sorry about all this. I should probably go."

"No, stay," Scott insisted. "We're both here and need to eat," he pointed out. "And Angie's not the only one with stories. I can tell you some, if you'd like. My guess is you're interested, otherwise you wouldn't have come here tonight."

He was right. "I appreciate the offer, if you're sure?" Emily asked.

"I am," Scott maintained.

xxx

On Saturday afternoon Emily stood outside an apartment door starring at the brass number three emblem affixed there. Her courage meter was hovering somewhere between 'freaked' and 'just get it over with'. Finally she knocked, and waited. There was no answer. Emily knocked again, a little louder than the first time. Several more seconds passed. Her heart slowed, disappointment settling in. She was about to leave when the door swung open.

"Hi," Angie's voice held a note of disbelief as she greeted Emily. "I thought I heard a knock, but I had my headphones in," she indicated the items in question, which were dangling over her shoulders. "I'm really glad I decided to check," Angie smiled.

The girl was wearing yoga pants, a t-shirt and an iPod was attached to her left bicep via an armband. Emily also noticed the silver locket Angie was wearing. It was the same necklace she'd seen on her each time they'd briefly met before. Now, upon closer inspection, Emily could see that the worn etching was a pair of feathery wings. "I should apologize for just showing up like this, clearly I interrupted a workout."

"Only thing getting a workout today has been my brain," Angie replied, pointing to the headphones again. "The audio lecture helps reinforce my written notes. I have two exams next week before Thanksgiving break."

"That's harsh," Emily grimaced in sympathy.

Angie shrugged. "That's law school."

"I should let you get back to it, then," Emily took a small step away from the door.

"No, please don't go," Angie stopped her. "I could really use a break. I've been going all morning and afternoon. Come in," she waved her inside.

With trepidation Emily entered the apartment. It was a very small studio with a bed in one corner, a tiny kitchenette and two doors along the opposite wall. Emily guessed one led to a closet and the other to a bathroom. There was no other furniture in the main living area. But a sea of notebooks, text books and a silver laptop covered the floor. They all seemed to be arranged around a small area of carpet, which Emily guessed was where Angie had been sitting.

"Sorry about all this," Angie apologized. "Usually I keep the place tidy, but I tend to get messy when I study." She removed her iPod and headphones, placed them on the kitchen counter and then closed some of the books. "I made brownies this morning, favorite study food," Angie revealed as she made her way back to the kitchenette. "Do you like brownies?"

Emily's brows arched. "Are they made with chocolate?"

"Of course."

"Then what's not to like," Emily grinned.

The girl's smile reflected Emily's in nearly perfect detail. "How about some tea to go with them?" she offered. "I just got some Tahitian mint tea, very good. Mint and chocolate has always been one of my favorite combinations."

"Sounds great," Emily agreed. Reading letters about the girl had helped her gain some background knowledge, but actually talking to Angie was far better. She watched as the young woman cut several brownies and placed them on paper towels. She glanced around the room nervously as Angie brewed the tea in her microwave. When Angie brought her a steaming mug and a stack of brownies, Emily couldn't help notice the girl looked rather uncomfortable.

"I'm really embarrassed right now," Angie admitted. "I don't actually have anywhere to sit. I always use the floor. My scholarship covers tuition and boarding, not much extra. And my dad doesn't want me to work, not even part-time. He says I should only focus on studying," she explained.

"The floor is fine," Emily let her know. "Really," she reinforced her words by settling down on a spot of carpet near the kitchen, leaning her back against the wall. "I was a college student once." She blew on her tea. "I worked, but my mother still snuck money into my account."

"Is your mother still alive?"

A slow nod came from Emily. "She is."

Angie got the feeling that wasn't a topic she wished to expand upon. "So, I guess you're here because of last night. My dad called me this morning," she revealed. "I'm sorry I lied to you about the letters, and that I contacted you even after you said not to."

"I'm not sorry," Emily easily absolved her. "But you should know nothing is ever going to happen between your father and me."

"It was worth a try," the girl flashed a sheepish grin before biting in to a brownie. The two of them ate and sipped for a while in silence. "After my mom died, I'd have these really elaborate daydreams about finding you," Angie spoke again. "You'd fall in love with my dad and get married, and I'd have a baby brother or sometimes a sister. And you and I would bake cookies after school," she concluded. "Silly, huh?"

Emily's head shook. "Nothing wrong with daydreams," she assured the girl. "I actually had similar ones when I was little. I only ever had nannies to make cookies for me."

"Not your mom?" Another negative head shake was Emily's only reply. Angie realized again that she wasn't going to get her to open up about her mother. "What about your dad?" she asked instead. "Did he ever bake cookies with you?"

Laughter actually escaped Emily's lips. "Uh, no… my step-dad is an ultra-serious business man. He travels a lot. He's always been really nice to me, but we've never been close." Emily swallowed a small sip of tea. "My real dad died when I was seven."

"Whoa," Angie hadn't been expecting that news, "Same age as me when my mom died."

Fiddling with her tea mug, Emily finally found her opening. "He's actually one of the main reasons I came here to talk to you today," she took a deep breath before continuing. "My father was an alcoholic and so am I," she confessed. Emily watched Angie's eyes grow wider, but she seemed genuinely interested in hearing more. "My father battled with depression and so do I," she further revealed. "Eventually those two things led him to kill himself."

The girl swallowed nervously. "Have you ever…" she paused. "Tried to do that?" she bravely asked.

Setting her ceramic mug down on the carpet, Emily sighed. "Sort of," she nodded. "This week, after John's death, I… I drank so much I nearly could've…"

Angie took Emily's left hand in hers, squeezing it gently but reassuringly. It was the first real physical contact they'd shared. "I'm really glad you didn't die," Angie whispered.

"You can thank Derek for that," Emily smiled to think of the man, which helped keep tears from falling.

"Derek Morgan?" the girl inquired. "Spencer talks about him, and you… all of his team." She tried to direct the conversation somewhere a little less gloomy. "You all seem like family to him. I know he doesn't get to spend much time with his mom since she's at that hospital in Vegas. It's good he has you guys."

"He's told you a lot about himself," Emily was surprised he'd mentioned his mother.

She nodded. "We haven't known each other very long, but I really like Spencer. He's not like any guy I've ever known. He's very smart, but shy. And he does these silly magic tricks to flirt with me. It's really sweet. Tonight he's taking me to some candle light chess tournament in the park. It sounds pretty nerdy, but kind of romantic."

Emily found she was happy to know there was mutual affection between the two. "And here I thought maybe you'd only been seeing him to get closer to me."

"No," Angie replied. "If you recall, I actually met him a few minutes before I met you," she noted.

"True," Emily smiled, feeling more at ease around the girl. Except there was more to her history that she wanted to impart upon the child. "What I just told you about my father and me," she continued. "My mother never talked to me about those things, but I really wanted you to know because alcoholism and depression can both be genetic."

"I've never been very fond of drinking," the girl quickly supplied. "Not even as an undergrad. Now I know I should really avoid it," she was grateful of the information. Her dark eyes focused on the wall across from her. "I've certainly experienced my fair share of feeling depressed, though," Angie admitted. "I was painfully shy and quiet in high school. I had no real friends and just one date that stood me up."

"I'm sorry," Emily whispered.

Angie shrugged. "I had books, piano and karate. Karate was always a good way to vent my frustrations," she revealed. "My first years away at college yielded a few more friends, but the boys I dated were still pretty immature. I never even had sex until I was twenty-one, and there was just that one guy until I met Spencer."

Emily tried her best to pretend she hadn't heard that last bit. "For someone so shy you certainly just gave me an earful."

"You're easy to talk to, at least now that you want to listen," Angie said. "As close as my dad and I are, he's still a guy. And Father Quinn is pretty hip, but he's a priest," she laughed.

"Very true," Emily chuckled along with her for a moment. Her mug was empty, brownies eaten. She glanced at her watch. "I can't believe I've taken up so much of your time."

"It's okay," Angie replied as they both stood. "I'm really glad you came here today," she smiled brightly. "I should probably get changed, though, before Spencer arrives."

"I'll get out of your way, then," Emily happily obliged. She rinsed her mug and left it in the sink. Angie walked her to the door. "I almost forgot to tell you about John's estate," Emily realized. She stood in the open doorway facing Angie. "He left everything to you. After all the medical bills are paid you'll get about five hundred thousand."

"Right," Angie chuckled. She watched as Emily didn't even blink. "You were being serious? That's half a million dollars."

Emily nodded. "He was cremated per his wishes. John left it up to me whether or not to spread the ashes or place them in a memorial vault." That second option seemed dismal to her as she recalled some of the happier times she'd spent with her childhood friends. "John always really liked the water and sailing, so I thought about spreading his ashes in the ocean. Virginia Beach is kind of chilly this time of year, but I'd rather not put it off," Emily danced around the issue a bit. "Do you have any plans for next weekend?" she finally asked.

Still reeling a bit from the amount of money she stood to inherit, Angie thought it over. "I always spend Thanksgiving with my dad, but I'm free the rest of the weekend."

"We could drive down Friday evening, return Sunday afternoon… a quick trip," Emily suggested.

"That'd be nice," Angie agreed.

xxx

Mixed emotions plagued Emily as the elevator doors slid shut and the car began its accent. In an attempt to distract herself she reached for the cell phone in her purse. There were missed calls from Derek and one text from an unknown source. The message was generic enough that she figured someone had dialed the wrong number. On the top floor Emily keyed her lock and pushed the door open to find lights on in her apartment; lights she was sure she'd turned off before leaving several hours ago.

As quietly as possible she closed the front door and crept down the hallway. A soft creak on the stairs caused her to stop. "Shit," she swore, exhaling with relief as Derek walked around the corner. "Are you trying to give me a heart attack?" Emily swatted his shoulder and dropped her purse on the table beside her hall closet. "What are you doing here?" she asked, kicking her shoes off.

"You gave me a key," Morgan smiled, but felt a little bad. "I didn't mean to startle you."

Her jacket was removed and hung. "I gave you that key because it cost me two hundred dollars to have my door replaced," she continued to give him the cold shoulder even though she was glad to see him. Emily grabbed the phone out of her purse and brought the text message up. She held it so he could see. "Was this you?"

"See you soon," Derek read the message aloud. "Nope, kind of ruins the element of surprise."

Emily frowned. "I thought that's why you used an unknown number," she said while deleting the message.

"No," he maintained. "But I have been trying to call you," Derek finally pulled her close, initiating a proper greeting. Their lips met, eyes closed, arms encircling one another.

"I never took you for the clingy type," Emily smiled as they pulled apart just a little.

He gave her another brief kiss. "Just curious about your dinner last night."

"Ah ha," she grinned. "The jealous type. That I can see."

Derek shook his head and let her go. "I was more interested in," he paused a moment, not sure how to delicately broach the subject. "What you had to eat… and drink," he quickly added the second part.

Her eyes finally softened and her body relaxed. "He had wine, I had water," Emily initiated the next kiss between them. When it ended she rested her forehead against his, wondering how she'd gotten lucky enough to have him in her corner. "Thank you for being the concerned type."

"No problem," Morgan took her hand. "Now, for the real surprise…" he guided her toward the living room.

"My sofa is hardly a surprise," she chuckled.

Morgan grinned. Less than a week ago she'd been pushing him away, so he welcomed the relaxed vibe she was giving off at the moment. They walked around the sofa to where a large box was resting beside the coffee table. "This is your surprise."

"You got me a large cardboard box?" Emily stared at the item, puzzled. "You shouldn't have," she drolly continued. "Christmas isn't even until next month."

"This gift isn't going to stay put in that box until Christmas," he warned.

That finally piqued her curiosity and she sat on the sofa to open the box. Inside was a beige plastic animal carrier that she freed from the box. A small gray cat peered at her from inside and her heart melted a little. "You got me a cat?" Emily asked, very much surprised.

"I was thinking about what JJ said yesterday, the kids and animals therapy method," he explained while helping her free the kitten from its cage. Derek smiled as the little ball of fluff immediately curled up in Emily's arms. "Clooney always helped me unwind after a hard day," Derek recalled. "Still miss the old guy."

She smiled understandingly, remembering the day he'd walked into the BAU and told her about the dog's passing. "I saw Angie today," she revealed. "We talked for over an hour."

"Yeah?" he was impressed. "How'd that go?"

"Not bad. She seemed glad to see me."

"I don't doubt it," Derek replied. "You shouldn't either."

Emily cooed at the cat, "You're a real sweetheart." The animal purred contentedly. "Does she have a name?"

"Thought I'd leave that up to you," he offered.

She didn't take much time to deliberate on the matter. "Resi."

Derek winced a little. "You do remember that she…"

"I know," Emily nodded. "Just thought I'd put an optimistic spin on it," she smiled.

Morgan snuggled beside her, pleased that she liked the gift. He didn't know if the cat, Angie or even his support would keep Emily's addiction at bay, but he had faith. "Do you remember the last moral in Vonnegut's introduction of that book?"

She nodded, laying her head against his chest and inhaling. Wearing his shirt to bed was a mediocre substitute for the real thing. They hadn't been together for weeks, other than literally sleeping together the afternoon she'd passed out. Emily thought it might be time to rectify that. "Make love while you can," she whispered.

"It's good for you," he added the last part before kissing her again.

A ringing cell phone rudely interrupted their union. "Ugh," she sighed.

"Leave it," Derek begged, suckling her lower lip.

Emily nearly did, but she couldn't help think about Angie. She had a child to think about now, and worry about. "It'll just take a second…" she reluctantly untangled herself from Derek's lips and arms. Emily settled the cat on his lap before padding across the room. The caller name caught her off guard. "Hello?" she quickly decided to answer.

"He's escaped, Emily," the man's voice was thickly accented.

"Doyle," the name wasn't even a question. There was no one else who could make fearless Sean McAllister sound so frightened. And she couldn't help remember the mysterious text she'd received earlier. It shattered all the day's pleasantries. A shiver racked her body as her eyes locked on the back of Derek's head. He was still on the sofa petting Resi, oblivious to another sorted chapter in her life that had just come back to haunt her.

"Yes," her old friend confirmed. "I shouldn't be telling you over the phone, it's not secure. But I'm not wasting time. I plan to relocate my family right away. I suggest you take similar precautions," he warned.

"I will," Emily vowed.

* * *

><p><strong>To be continued…<strong>


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: I do not own any rights to the TV series, _Criminal Minds_.

* * *

><p><strong>Angel<strong>

Part 7

By  
>N. J. Borba<p>

* * *

><p>"So… you worked undercover for Interpol," Morgan tried to remain cool-headed as he listened.<p>

There were a lot of things he imagined he didn't know about Emily Prentiss, several of those having come out in recent weeks. But learning she was once part of a secret team sent to infiltrate a former member of the IRA. That was a heck of a lot more than he'd been expecting. He watched her now as she sat on the floor of her apartment, barefoot and playing with Resi. The kitten had been rather placid upon their first meeting, now she was running circles around Emily.

"I couldn't tell you, Derek," Emily turned away from the cat to face him. She'd spent five days debating whether or not to tell him. "I shouldn't even be telling you now."

His head was still spinning as he moved to sit behind her. Derek pressed his back to the sofa and drew Emily close so she was reclined against his chest. He had to admit he was glad she'd opened up to him about it, even if it was disturbing to think about. "Exactly how close were you to this Doyle guy?"

Her eyes closed for a second. "The team assigned me to him."

Derek nuzzled her neck with his chin. "Did you care about him?"

"It wasn't me," Emily replied. "It was my cover, Lauren. I had to get close enough to gain his trust, which included sharing his bed," she admitted. "But it's not so different than what we do every day, getting inside an UnSub's head."

"It's a hell of a lot different," he begged to differ.

"You're upset," she noted.

Morgan nodded, but his arms wrapped tightly around her waist. "Will he come after you?" he changed the subject slightly.

"Before they pulled me out, I'm pretty sure Doyle discovered I was undercover. But the odds of him figuring out I'm Lauren are… slim," she lied, mostly to herself.

"But not impossible," Derek wasn't a fool. "According to you the man's an international terrorist who ran a major weapons smuggling ring. I doubt it'd be hard for a guy like that to figure out your true identity. He's bound to still have contacts," Morgan's profiler mind took over for a moment.

Emily watched as Resi pounced on her own tail. "You're actually not freaking out as much as I anticipated."

He shrugged. "You having a twenty-three year old daughter kind of floored me. Not a lot can trump that, although this is coming in a close second."

"Can we please not talk about Doyle anymore tonight?" Emily pleaded. "We just spent a relaxing day with Penelope, Kevin and Reid. Tomorrow Angie and I are taking off on our little excursion," she reached out to pet the kitten and Resi playfully swatted her hand. Emily smiled at the mischievous little cat. "Even though the main purpose of the trip is about John, I think it could be a chance for us to talk more."

"It'd be a better trip if I tagged along," Derek suggested. "I wouldn't get in the way of your girly bonding stuff. I'd just feel safer knowing you two weren't alone."

She appreciated the sentiment. But, whereas Sean was fleeing the country with his family, Emily didn't plan on letting Doyle ruin her life. Especially not now that it was finally starting to turn around. "I need you to stay with Resi. Please?" Emily asked.

"Fine," Derek agreed, still worried about her. "Stubborn woman," he teased, nipping at her earlobe as playfully as the cat.

They ended their Thanksgiving with a lot to be grateful for.

xxx

Emily parked her car along the curb in front of a small yellow house in Baltimore; the place Angie had grown up. She made her way up the front walk recalling a few stories Scott had told her, one in particular about Angie's first day of school and how they'd taken her picture on the top step of the porch. She could see now that the porch was painted white with an old wooden bench swing hanging to the right of the door. Emily couldn't help wishing she'd been there that day.

Scott stepped outside and closed the door. Emily could easily tell he didn't seem pleased to see her. "Is something wrong?"

"Angie's just grabbing her things," the man stoically replied.

"That doesn't really answer my question," Emily replied, still feeling like he was giving her the cold shoulder.

He relaxed his jaw a little before launching into a very brief response. "I think it's best if you don't see Angie again after this weekend."

She was instantly confused. "May I ask why?" Emily inquired. "Because we had dinner together just a week ago, and you seemed perfectly happy about me getting to know Angie better. I don't understand this sudden shift."

"When John Cooley contacted Angie, I was happy for her," he began. "I've always been completely open and honest with Angie about her adoption. I even welcomed the idea of her seeking out her birth parents. But," Scott sighed. "These last several weeks have changed my daughter, and not for the better as far as I'm concerned."

"Could you be more specific," Emily pushed, still unclear about what his difficulty was.

Scott's jaw tensed again. "First off, she just found and lost John in a very short amount of time. None of which was easy for her, despite how strong she pretends to be. Secondly, she finally told me how you pushed her away the first time you met. She also explained how dangerous your job is. And then there was the huge revelation of you telling her about a history of alcoholism and depression in your family," he shook his head. "I'm not sure why you felt the need to bring any of that up."

"Because she had a right to know," Emily defended her actions.

"I don't want this to turn into an argument," Scott spoke as calmly as possible.

"Nor do I," Emily agreed.

"Do you know Angie wants to drop out of law school?"

That floored Emily. "No, I…"

"Apparently she'd like to take some time off to travel," he interrupted, clearly disapproving of the idea. "And it seems you gave her the money to do that."

"John left her that money to do with as she pleases," Emily countered. "That was his decision, and his right."

"Well, I don't approve," he made that fact known verbally. "I also think her dating a young man you work with is a bad idea. People in your line of work get killed every day, and Angie doesn't need to lose anyone else she cares about."

Emily swallowed. "I understand that you want to protect her," she even admired that quality. "But she's an adult. Angie's obviously always done exactly as you wished, but maybe she needs time now to travel, to discover things about herself away from this familiar setting. And there'll be plenty of time for law school. She's still young."

"I'm sorry if I mislead you the other night," he replied. "But make no mistake, Angie is my child. For her sake, I pray you have a good weekend and then you break it to her gently that you won't be a part of her life any longer."

"Hello," Angie's cheerful voice interrupted as she exited the house with a red rolling bag. She glanced between the two people on her front porch. "Something wrong?"

Scott shook his head. "Nope," he kissed his daughter's cheek. "Have a nice weekend, sweetheart." With that he entered his home and closed the door on them.

"We should get going," Emily forced a smile as she did her best to push the troubling encounter to the back of her mind. But the drive down was constantly marred by Scott's words and visions of Ian Doyle coming after her and the people she cared about. They arrived late, ate a small meal together and then checked in to their rooms. Emily lay atop the pristinely made hotel bed and starred at the ceiling until her cell vibrated. The name on screen broke through her gloom. "Hey," she greeted.

"Hey, yourself," Derek replied. "You okay?"

"Fine."

"You don't sound fine," he noticed.

She closed her eyes. "It was just a longer drive than I remember. I need to rest."

"Okay, well… I just called to let you know that Resi misses you, so I thought I'd spend the night here and keep her company."

That made Emily smile. "I'm sure it's the cat that misses me," she replied.

"Honest," he insisted.

She could almost see the silly grin on his face and wished she was there, curled up beside him. "Good night," Emily whispered.

"Night."

The phone slipped from her hand and her eyes moved from the ceiling to focus on the mini bar.

xxx

Their Saturday started slowly with breakfast and coffee at a small café. Then the two women visited a history museum, art museum and aquarium. After a late lunch they headed out for a bit of shopping, admiring the fall décor and fashions. There were cashmere sweaters in shades of burgundy and gold, which mirrored the scant few leaves remaining on the sidewalk trees. Hand woven scarves and finely crafted jewelry were also on display in the perfectly decorated shop windows.

But Emily quickly learned that spending money on clothing and jewelry was not her daughter's forte.

"It's too expensive," Angie shook her head.

"Says the girl who just inherited a ton of money," Emily was left holding a necklace that she'd been sure Angie would like. Its delicate pearls were encased in silver, three of them in a row on a thin chain. It was simple and elegant.

"I plan to use that money for… important things," Angie insisted.

"It would look perfect on you," Emily tried again, not wanting to find out if Angie's plans for the money really were to ditch law school and travel. So far, their trip had lacked ample personal content, which neither of them seemed to mind. "And I know you like silver because you don't ever take that locket off," she observed.

Angie's left hand went to the locket, her thumb rubbing over the etching. "It's the only necklace I wear," she spoke softly.

"This will be my treat," Emily offered. "I'd like to get it for you."

"I just told you this is the only necklace I wear," Angie's voice erupted, which for her was still not terribly loud. But, by the shocked expression on Emily's face, Angie knew she'd gotten her point across. Her hand dropped back to her side. "I don't feel much like shopping anymore. I'm going to take a walk along the beach."

The underlying message was clearly that she didn't wish to be followed. Emily nodded and watched as the young woman left the store. Scott's words came back to haunt her and she couldn't help wonder if he was right about her not being a good influence in Angie's life. The ringing of her cell phone thankfully jarred those thoughts to the back of her mind as she answered. "How do you always know the right moment to call?"

"Lucky guesses?" Derek chuckled, but the laughter swiftly faded. "Why is this a good time? Has Doyle contacted you?"

"No," she was thankful of his concern. Emily exited the store and found a bench along the sidewalk to sit. "I just experienced an awkward moment with Angie."

"That's bound to happen," he replied. "Relationships take time, as we both already know."

She smiled. "And you always know the right thing to say," Emily noted. "I understand all that, I just…" she didn't want to tell him what Scott had demanded. She'd already put too much on Derek's shoulders by telling him about her past with Doyle. "I don't want to make the same kind of mistakes my mother made. I thought I could just jump right in and be the cool best friend, buy her fun stuff, eat junk food and watch movies together…"

"Don't be so hard on yourself, Emily. Angie doesn't need a best buddy," he let her know. "She needs a mother, and that means she just needs you to be you."

"So I should sit in a corner and read a book while she watches me?" Emily asked.

He laughed. "Okay, maybe not that, but… just be sincere."

"I'll try," she agreed. "Thank you, for everything."

"Don't mention it," he signed off.

An hour and a half later the sun was already beginning to set. Emily found Angie sitting on the beach. It was chilly and mostly deserted, other than one couple walking hand-in-hand about a hundred feet away. They were headed further down shore. Emily sat down on the damp sand and settled her bag beside her. "I'm sorry about earlier," she apologized.

The girl turned to face her. "No, I'm the one who's sorry," she seemed thankful for the opportunity of forgiveness. "I don't know why I got so upset."

"Must be a special locket," Emily guessed.

Angie's hand clasped the locket again, protectively. "My dad gave it to me after my mom died."

Emily had figured as much. She watched as wave after wave crashed upon the shore. Finally she rummaged through her large leather bag and plucked something out. "I hope you don't mind that I bought this for you," she handed over the small velvet bag. Emily regarded the girl as she removed the ring. "It's silver, which I thought would go well with your necklace. And it's a sailor's knot design, in John's honor," Emily explained. "With an emerald," she concluded, pointing to the small stone in the middle of the setting.

"That's my birthstone," Angie smiled.

"I know," Emily nodded.

"Right," the girl bit her bottom lip as she starred at the ring. "For some reason I keep forgetting you were there when I was born."

That was one thing Emily had never forgotten. "They say an emerald represents love and rebirth," she informed the girl.

"It's beautiful, thank you," Angie whispered as she slipped it on the ring finger of her right hand. "You mentioned before that John liked sailing."

"He once told me it made him feel free," Emily revealed. "His parents were a lot like mine, strict, dictating. My mother is an ambassador and we were living in Rome when I first met John and another friend of ours, Matthew. The three of us sometimes traveled down to Sperlonga. We'd walk the beaches and John would sail us along the Mediterranean."

Angie's eyes lit with awe. "How far is Sperlonga from Rome?"

"About two hours by train," Emily happily recalled those trips, playing cards and drinking soda with her friends.

"How old were you?"

"Fifteen."

This time the girl's eyes went wide with disbelief. "Your parents let you go on your own? My dad had separation anxiety when I went to piano camp for two weeks in the sixth grade. And he still doesn't like me living in DC even though it's just an hour away."

"My parents were usually preoccupied by work," Emily said, beginning to gain a greater understanding of Scott Hayden. "And most of the time we lied about where we were going."

"Is that how old you were when you had me, fifteen?" Angie asked.

"Sixteen."

That caused the girl to shake her head. "That's still really young. I don't remember even thinking about sex at that age."

"I didn't really either," Emily confided.

"Oh," Angie swallowed. "Did John… um… hurt you?"

"No," Emily was quick to correct her. "No, it was nothing like that. We were just…" she let the roar of the waves distract her. "You really don't need to know what happened back then."

"I heard what John told you, about not wanting me to think I was an accident," Angie boldly forged ahead. "But at that age I don't imagine you were planning to get pregnant."

Seconds ticked as Emily contemplated how to proceed. "I can't believe I'm doing this," she exhaled. "Aside from the exploration trips, Matthew, John and I hung out a lot… smoking and drinking too much," she revealed. "One night we were at John's house while our parents attended some function. And we were drinking, a lot. The boys decided to play a round of truth or dare," her head shook. "Such a stupid game."

Emily breathed out and then in again, like the waves rolling with the tide. "Matthew asked John if he was still a virgin and John truthfully answered that he was," she continued. "I didn't want to answer such a personal question, so I chose a dare," Emily explained. "John dared me to have sex with him."

"And you did," Angie surmised. She watched Emily nod. "Did you always plan to have me after you found out?"

"Angie, please… don't," Emily begged.

"You're finally being honest with me," Angie protested. "I really want to know."

After lying to herself for so many years, Angie's words cut through her. "John told his parents about me being pregnant and they sent him away to a school in England. Matthew found a clinic, he traveled there with me, held my hand… but at the last minute I couldn't go through with it," Emily rehashed it all. "Matthew and his parents moved to DC shortly after, and he helped me again by finding a school nearby that I could attend. I cajoled my mother into letting me go and that was that."

"But there's more," Angie prodded.

"Matthew would visit me on weekends and bring me cookies, buy me ice cream," Emily recalled with a smile. "All the things I craved but couldn't get at my school."

"Sounds like a good friend."

"He was, but we lost touch," Emily noted with regret. "Matthew had a lot of troubles of his own. He died earlier this year."

"It hasn't been a very good year for you," Angie observed sympathetically.

Emily sighed, the rest of her story spilling forth in a clunky manner. "My parents didn't know about you, and no one at my school suspected I was pregnant. They all thought I was just chubby, which made me even more of an outcast there. I went to a free clinic in Baltimore for regular check-ups. And you were good enough to put off being born until after my final school exam that May," she explained.

"You and I spent the first twenty-four hours of your life together in the hospital," Emily began again. "I fed you and changed you. I even got you to stop crying a few times, and for a brief moment I thought maybe I could raise you on my own. But I realized how selfish that would be," she whispered. "When the cab came for me that second day, I told the nurse it was my parents, but it was really Matthew. He went with me to the church and…"

"That's where you left me," Angie finished, brushing a tear from her eye.

"Leaving you was the hardest thing I've ever done," Emily revealed.

Angie smiled. "For what it's worth, I think you did the right thing."

Those words gave Emily strength enough to explain the last bit of her story. "When John and I finally spoke again I decided to tell him I'd gone through with the abortion. Matthew agreed to keep that secret for me. And the more time that passed, the more that version became a reality for me. It was easier than remembering that I'd abandoned you. It was easier than wondering if you were okay, if you were loved and safe… if you were happy."

"I was," Angie quickly assured her. "Losing my mom was sad, and those teenage years were rough. But I always had my dad and he's a really great dad."

"He must be, because you turned into a lovely young woman," Emily observed. Thinking about Scott's recent change of heart broke hers. She couldn't imagine not having Angie in her life now that they'd reconnected. But it was a topic she wished to avoid a little longer. Emily reached into her bag again and pulled out the carved wooden box that was filled with John's ashes. She stood and faced Angie. There was no one within sight on the beach. "Shall we?"

The girl got to her feet. "Okay," she nodded her agreement.

Together they walked out to the edge of the ocean. The setting sun at their backs cast a soft golden light against the dark water. Emily opened the box. She let the breeze do most of the work, watching as John's ashes floated on the wind and out to sea. "Be free, my friend," she whispered. "Be at peace."

xxx

Emily woke Sunday morning with a headache, even though she hadn't given in to the mini bar temptation on either night of her stay. She guessed the headache was a combination of withdrawal, regret and worry. Emily rolled out of bed and grabbed the tiny bottle of free aspirin off the hotel nightstand. She swallowed two with some water and then checked her phone messages. The first was filled with dead air for several seconds, which caused her some concern. But the second message made her smile.

"Hi, it's me, Angie. I knocked on your door but you didn't answer so I'm going to get coffee at that place around the corner. Please join me when you get up. No rush, though. I have my laptop with me and plan to IM Spencer. See you soon."

She tossed the phone onto her bed then ducked into the bathroom for a quick shower. Emily arrived at the coffee shop a half hour later and searched for Angie. She spotted a silver laptop on a table in the corner, but no Angie. Trying not to look like she was snooping, Emily made a pass to see if she could determine whether it was Angie's computer. The screen showed an IM chat and Emily couldn't help read the last two lines of conversation.

Angie87: BRB

Doctor_Reid: R U back yet?

Fear slid down her spine, and it had nothing to do with Reid's short hand. Emily headed straight to the front counter and addressed the young man working there. "Did you see where the girl sitting in that corner went?" she pointed toward Angie's laptop.

"Nope," the skinny guy replied. "Can I get you something to drink?"

Her heart thumped and hands balled into fists as she raced toward the exit. Emily stood on the sidewalk carefully analyzing her surroundings. The ring of her cell phone nearly caused her to jump, not something she was proud of. The screen flashed: unknown name, unknown number. "Hello," she answered. Silence filled the line. "Is anyone there?" Emily asked, but received no answer other than a click signifying the end of the call.

"Damn it," she swore. Emily was about to dial Derek when her phone rang again. The same unknown caller message displayed. "Who the hell is this?" she growled over the line. There was only silence again followed by another click.

Someone tapped her left shoulder and Emily spun around. Angie stared at her with worried eyes. "You okay? The guy in there said you were asking about me."

"Where the hell have you been?" Emily finally exhaled.

Angie bit her lip. "I was just in the restroom."

Emily's nails dug into her palm. "Oh."

"Are you okay?" the girl worriedly inquired. "You want some coffee?"

Shaking her head, Emily took Angie by the arm and led her back inside the café. "We need to be going, now. Grab your stuff and I'll walk you back to the hotel."

The young woman did as instructed. She never said a word as they returned to the hotel, gathered their things and checked out. The two of them barely even spoke to one another the whole three-hour drive back to DC. But when Emily walked Angie to her apartment door the girl finally asked, "Is everything okay?"

In that instant Emily wanted a drink so badly she could practically taste it. Scott's words pounded in her head. Her panic attack at the coffee shop, the knowledge of Doyle's escape and the strange phone calls all collided into five words. "We should end this here."

"What do you mean?" Angie asked, placing her bag by the door.

Emily breathed out. "We put John to rest, and I've told you all you need to know about the past," she clarified. "We should go our separate ways now."

"What?" the girl scoffed at that ridiculous proposal. "No."

"You don't need me in your life."

Angie's eyes watered. "Why are you doing this again?"

"Because it's for the best," Emily whispered. She gazed in to the girl's brown eyes one last time then turned and headed for the stairs.

"Don't walk away, Emily. Please," Angie pleaded. "I do need you."

Emily had to bite her tongue to keep the tears away. Angie hadn't tried to stop her before, she hadn't begged. They hadn't known each other then. But even as the girl called out to her again, Emily kept walking. Having Angie hate her was a far better fate than endangering the girl's precious life. When she exited the building and the cool air hit her face, the tears could not be stopped. Emily walked past her car that was parked on the street. She walked aimlessly for several blocks until a neon sign beckoned her.

It read: tavern.

* * *

><p><strong>To be continued…<strong>


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: I do not own any rights to the TV series, _Criminal Minds_.

* * *

><p><strong>Angel<strong>

Part 8

By  
>N. J. Borba<p>

* * *

><p>Emily watched a mother and daughter.<p>

The mall was trimmed from one end to the other for Christmas. Thick boughs of real holly and cedar hung over shop entrances. Garland and ornaments adorned stair railings and escalators. There was a jolly mall Santa with elf helpers and a North Pole village. And every song that played was a holiday tune. Added to that was the noise from all the shoppers running hither and yon, performing their last minute gift hunts. Same as the mother and daughter Emily was watching.

A blond-haired, blue-eyed little girl, who couldn't have been more than six, was pulled along by her desperate looking mother. The scene made Emily wonder if there were any happy mothers and daughters in the world, or if they were all doomed to shuffle along gloomily. Those thoughts drifted as she spotted Reid approaching her table in the food court. He looked just about how she'd expected in a mall full of holiday shoppers; out of place.

"Hello," Reid greeted her with a wan smile as he deposited two bags onto the chair between them. He sat down in another plastic chair that faced her.

"This is about the last place I ever expected to meet you," Emily remarked.

"Sorry," he sported a sheepish grin now. "I had some shopping to do."

"Really?" that surprised her even more. "Christmas is four days away. I figured you for an early bird shopper."

He nodded. "I bought my mom's gift three months ago," Spencer said. "It's, uh, Angie's gift that's been causing me some trouble. But look," he plunged one gangly arm into a bag and pulled out a leather bound book. "I found this just now," he excitedly passed it across the table.

Starring at the title, Emily frowned. "It's a book of laws and criminal cases," she observed. "You bought a law student a book about the law?"

"Yes, but let me show you something," Reid snatched the item from her hands and flipped through several pages. His left index finger pounced on the page he stopped at. "Right here is a case we were discussing just the other night. Angie insisted it was 1985, but I knew it was 1983. And see, I was right," he turned the book so she had a better view.

Her brows arched. "So, you bought her a book that proves you won an argument?"

"Not an argument," Reid protested. "A healthy intellectual conversation…" he trailed off, finally noticing the expression she wore. "Not a good idea?"

"No," Emily's head shook.

His shoulders sagged. Reid closed the book and placed it back in the bag. "There's always candy," he brandished the large bar of imported dark chocolate he'd purchased for the girl. "I know she likes chocolate," he confidently added.

Emily nodded. "True enough, but also rather generic as far as Christmas gifts go." It'd been three and a half weeks since Emily had walked out of her daughter's life. They hadn't spoken in all that time, not a single call. But that certainly didn't mean Emily hadn't thought about the girl every day.

"Okay, well… I did see a nice silk scarf at one shop," Reid was still searching.

"A scarf's something you buy more for your mother or an aunt," Emily let him know.

He sighed. "I haven't been on a lot of second dates. Actually, none," Reid confessed. "And a few of my first dates only lasted minutes," he added. "Angie's hung around for two months now, and I think we're both… well, it feels very serious. So, what do I buy a serious girlfriend?" he asked. "Jewelry, maybe?" a shrug punctuated that possibility. "I know she really likes that ring you bought her. Maybe I should give her a ring," Reid pondered.

"Do you want to give her a ring?" Emily asked.

His eyes grew wide. "Oh, no… not that kind of ring. I mean, well… maybe that kind of ring someday, a while from now. A lot longer than a few days from now, which is when Christmas will be," he stammered. "So, what is it you wanted to talk to me about?" Reid promptly changed the subject.

Emily would've laughed at the young man, if not for his question. She'd summoned him to talk. Now she was nervous about what to say to him. "Have you ever had a slip?" she finally asked. "You know, since you stopped taking the drugs?" He'd never really come right out to any of them and confessed his drug abuse after what happened with Tobias Hankel. But it was fairly well guessed by all of them that he'd had a problem.

"No," his previous jumpiness was replaced by an easy calm. "But there've been times when I wanted to," he let her know in all honesty. The food court's bustle continued all around them as they spoke about the serious issues of their addictions. "Have you had a slip?" Reid asked.

She nodded. "I did," Emily didn't mention it was the last day she'd seen or talked to her daughter. Reid didn't seem to know they weren't speaking, and she preferred to keep it that way unless Angie brought it up with him. "I just had one drink. That was three weeks ago, but..."

"Three weeks is better than one or two," he smiled. "I've been drug free for two years, seven months, three days, five hours, nine minutes and about…" Reid glanced at his watch for a moment. "Thirty-two seconds," he concluded.

"Of course," she actually smiled, expecting no less than exactness from the young genius.

He reached into the right pocket of his sweater-vest and pulled something free. "The first time I went to a support meeting someone gave me their six-month sobriety coin. I gave it back to him when I got one of my own," Reid handed the item over. "I'd really like you to hold on to this one for a while," he offered.

"Do you think…" she took the offering and clutched it tightly in her left hand, "Should I do a twelve-step program or support group… something like that?"

"I don't know," he shrugged. "Everyone deals with stuff differently. You said you felt more comfortable talking to us, so we could just keep doing this. Or you could talk to Morgan. I know he's willing to listen, especially since you two are…" he noticed the arch in her brows was back. "If I've noticed it then the rest of the team probably knows."

Emily nodded. "I'd like to keep talking like this," she let him know. "The two of us."

Spencer smiled again. "Maybe it can work both ways, because… gifts aside, I'm kind of worried about Angie."

"What about Angie?" Emily was instantly concerned.

"It's nothing bad, I don't think," he assured, seeing she was alarmed. "I just know she was really excited about doing some traveling. But her dad got upset about the idea, so she agreed to stay in school at least until the end of this semester. She doesn't seem very happy about it, though, kind of depressed really. And I'm not sure what to say to her about it. Or if I should even bring it up again," he shrugged.

His use of the word depressed made Emily's stomach twist in a knot. "You don't think her father… he'd never hurt her, would he?"

"What do you mean?" Reid grew a bit anxious.

"If she did drop out of school," Emily added. "Would he be upset enough to…"

"I haven't met him yet," he said. "But he's your… actually, I don't even know what he is to you. An uncle or…"

She gulped. "Cousin, distant… very distant on my mother's side," Emily lied again.

He seemed fine with that answer. "Angie always talks about him amiably, aside from this issue. I don't get the feeling he'd hurt her or press the matter."

Emily breathed out. She'd never gotten that impression from Scott either, but it was always better to have a second opinion. "Has Angie mentioned doing anything drastic? Dropping out completely to defy her father, or, maybe… drinking?" She watched his eyes cloud with concern. "It does seem to run in the family."

Spencer thought it over. "No, I don't think she'd do that. Her addiction is more… well, harmless. Angie wishes she had a mother to confide in, and she told me she gets lost in daydreams a lot, ones about her mother. It's hard not having her mom around. I know what that's like."

She easily sympathized with him and Angie both, because she'd often wished for a mother to confide in. "I'm sure Angie will figure this phase out for herself. It's actually a pretty typical age when life starts getting serious and you question what you're doing."

"Oh," he replied. "There wasn't a lot typical about my growing up. I guess I wouldn't know about this phase."

"You have plenty life experience to understand what she's going through," Emily insisted. "I think all she needs is someone to listen."

His smile was one of gratefulness. "I knew you'd help. Thanks," Reid gathered his bags. "I should get going. The mall closes in two hours and I still don't have an appropriate gift."

"Reid," Emily stopped him from leaving right away. "Just be creative," she suggested. He nodded and waved. In a matter of seconds he'd disappeared, lost in the sea of shoppers. Emily starred in to the depths of that sea again and spotted the same mother and daughter that she'd seen earlier. The little girl had a candy cane in one hand and was beaming at her mother as they walked away from Santa and the North Pole village.

"If only it was always that easy," Emily whispered.

xxx

Her apartment was dark when she entered. Emily left it that way until she reached the living room and turned on a lamp. She spotted Derek seated on her sofa. "At least I left the lights off this time," he said, getting to his feet and coming around to meet her. His lips aimed for hers, but she turned so that they only brushed her cheek.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, shrugging off her jacket.

Morgan watched the cat bound down the stairs. "Wanted to see you," he replied. Derek couldn't help feel like an outsider as Resi meandered around and between Emily's legs, clamoring for attention. Emily plucked the kitten off the floor and cradled the cat in her arms.

"You saw me at work earlier," she said dismissively.

He nodded. "I know. You left there around five-thirty and are just getting home at a quarter past nine," Derek observed. "Where've you been?"

"Out."

Morgan sighed. "Out where?" he tried not to sound like he was interrogating her.

"I went shopping at the mall," she finally revealed.

"You went shopping for about three hours and didn't buy anything?"

Emily's eyes narrowed as she put Resi down. "What makes you think I didn't buy anything?"

"No bags," he noted.

She sighed. "Well, maybe I put your lump of coal on layaway. They're expensive," Emily quipped. "I really need to clean Resi's litter box. It's been a few days," she quickly changed the subject. Without waiting for him to slam her with more questions, Emily headed for the small utility room near the front of her apartment. It contained a washer and dryer, as well as a water heater and furnace. It also housed Resi's litter box, which she proceeded to clean out as planned.

"You'd really rather clean a litter box than talk to me?" Derek stood in the doorway watching her.

"Funny…" she scooped poop into a small trash bag, keeping her back to Derek. "It doesn't feel like we're talking. I feels like you're grilling and I'm a shish kabob."

He would have laughed, but was too aggravated by her avoidance. "Okay, I'll just come out and say what I really want to say," Derek took a deep breath. "You haven't been yourself lately. You're pushing me away again, except this time you don't have the decency to say it to my face. And if it's because you've had a relapse, if you've taken any kind of alcoholic drink recently, I won't think less of you. You can confide in me, Emily."

The litter scoop was dropped as she stood and turned to face him. "I don't want to tell you everything, Derek," she protested. "Don't you get that? I don't want you to have to deal with all this shit in my life. It's not fair to you, and..."

"Hey," he interrupted, taking her by the hand and pulling her close. Derek pressed a kiss to her forehead. "You can tell me anything you want. And I promise I'll let you know if it's too much for me to handle. Deal?"

She fretfully chewed her bottom lip for a moment before finally spilling everything to him about Scott and Angie, even about the drink she'd taken three weeks ago and meeting with Reid an hour ago. "I know that sometimes when people quit one addiction they find something, or someone, to take its place; something that eventually becomes another crutch for them. When I stopped smoking I gained ten pounds because I reached for a handful of peanuts every time I wanted a cigarette. I just don't want you to be a crutch, Derek."

"Honestly," he looked her in the eye. "If you want to reach for a handful of Derek Morgan every time you want a drink, I have no problem with that."

Emily's eyes rolled. "I was trying to be serious," she pushed him away and returned to the litter box job.

Morgan mentally kicked himself. He let Emily finish the job before walking her back to the living room where they sat beside one another on the sofa. "I'm sorry about before. In all seriousness, since we're being honest tonight, there's something I really need to tell you," he primed.

"What?" she asked. Emily was grateful for his steadfast support, even when he tried to make jokes.

He didn't crack a smile. There wasn't an easy way to tell her, so Derek just came out and said it. "Doyle is in the US."

Her body chilled. "How could you possibly know that?"

"When you were at Virginia Beach with Angie, I told Hotch about Doyle." Morgan watched as her brows shot up her forehead. "I know it's all classified, but did you really think I was going to just sit on information like that?" his head shook. "Hotch has a contact at TSA and he hinted around that someone fitting Doyle's description might be trying to enter the US. They found him pretty quickly. He had a fake passport, chartered a jet. There was no way to track him after he left the airport, but… he's here, Emily."

She'd already guessed as much after the number of hang-up calls she'd received. "I've had someone following Angie for the last three weeks."

Derek shook his head again, though he wasn't terribly surprised. "The lack of communication in this relationship has certainly reached a high point. Hopefully."

"I love her, Derek," Emily let him know. "I don't want anything to happen to her."

"You ever think maybe you should tell _her_ that, not me?"

Emily sighed. "She deserves a normal life."

"She deserves _you_ in her life," he countered. "And right now I'm a heck of a lot more worried about Doyle coming after you."

xxx

It was the night before their four day Christmas weekend, and the BAU holiday gathering was in full swing.

Little Henry sat on Emily's lap, one chubby fist clutching a sippy cup and the other holding a half gnawed Christmas cookie. She held the boy close while watching JJ and Will dance in the middle of the bullpen. "Mommy and daddy are having fun, aren't they?" she spoke softly to the boy. Not in a baby voice, but gentle, on his level. "You got two really good parents, you know that, right? They love you lots and they'd never push you away."

"Stop beating yourself up," Derek's voice interrupted.

"We were having a private conversation," Emily chastised him in a not-so-serious tone. "Weren't we Henry?"

Morgan watched as the boy tried to feed his cookie to Emily. She tickled his tummy. Henry giggled and Emily's resultant smile made Derek ridiculously happy. He felt bad she'd never gotten a chance to experience Angie's childhood in that manner. "Sorry I interrupted," he apologized. That earned him an Emily smile as well.

"Have you two seen doctor Reid?" Garcia asked as she and Kevin planted themselves in chairs across from Derek and Emily. "I thought he was bringing the elusive Angie tonight. His first real girlfriend and only Hotch and JJ have seen the girl. Oh," she waved to Emily. "And you, of course, since she's your cousin."

Derek watched Emily tense and knew she hated the lie she'd started about Angie's true parentage. And even though he wished for her to rectify it, she remained stubborn, while he remained in her corner. "He's actually having dinner with Angie and her father tonight," Morgan supplied. "Reid said they'd try to stop by later."

Penelope nodded as her attention turned to Emily again. "So, spending time with kids is relaxing after all?" she asked.

"I guess," Emily shrugged. "Henry is easy to be around. He's so happy all the time," she kissed the boy's cheek and marveled at his cheerful grin.

"If only we could go back to a time before our innocence was lost," Kevin mused. "We could be happy all the time, too."

"Hmm, not so sure about that," Emily scrunched up her nose as she held Henry aloft and sniffed his backside. "Hanging around in poopy pants is a high price to pay for that youthful innocent feeling," she said. "I'm gonna grab the diaper bag and change him so JJ and Will can keep enjoying their time together."

Kevin jumped up and took Garcia's hand. "Shall we join them on the dance floor, fair maiden?"

Derek chuckled as he watched the goofy duo head toward the music. His eyes soon slid back to Emily. "Need a hand?" he asked.

"If you think you're man enough," she nodded with a wink.

They walked Henry to the floor's family restroom where there was a proper changing table. Derek proved himself, snatching up the diaper bag and assisting by handing her wipes, a new diaper and cream when prompted. He nearly lost his lunch, though, when she requested he fold up and dispose of the dirty diaper. "How can something so small produce something so disgusting?" Morgan asked as they walked back into the bullpen.

Emily was about to sling a snarky comment when she spotted an unexpected visitor in the bullpen talking to Hotch and Rossi. Scott Hayden turned and locked eyes with her, and Emily knew something was very wrong. She moved somewhat in a daze as Will approached and took Henry from her. Emily mindlessly followed the whole team up to the conference room. And she braced herself for the words that were about to come out of Scott's mouth.

The man did not disappoint. "This is why I didn't want you in her life," he was in near hysterics, waving a purple-cased cell phone in her face.

"That's Angie's," she recognized.

Scott clutched the item tightly in his hand. "I finally gave in on her dating Spencer, because she agreed to stay in school, and because he seems like a good person from what Angie's told me. But I knew this would happen. I knew…"

"Mr. Hayden," Hotch tried to calm the man down. "Why don't you sit, please," he pointed to a chair. "Why don't we all sit." When the rest of the team had followed his order, Hotch looked to the worried man. "You said something earlier about Angie having gone missing?"

He nodded. "I went to the restaurant where I was supposed to meet Angie and Spencer. But all I found was her cell phone on the table," Scott explained. "At first I figured she was there, maybe just in the restroom. But then the phone rang, so I answered it. A man told me that he had her and the doctor."

"JJ, try Reid's phone," Hotch immediately instructed.

"What else can you tell us, Mr. Hayden?" Rossi questioned. "Anything about the man's voice? Did he say why he took your daughter?"

"It was a… English accent, maybe Irish," Scott recalled. "I've always been bad at telling the difference. But," his eyes found Emily. "He mentioned you specifically. He told me that he knew Angie was connected to you somehow and that he was going to figure out how. That's it. Then he hung up." He continued to stare at Emily. "If anything happens to her, I'll never forgive you. I told you that being part of Angie's life was a mistake. Anyone who would abandon a child... I never should have let you near her."

"That's enough, Mr. Hayden." Morgan stepped in, seeing what his words were doing to Emily. "We'll find your daughter," he tried to placate the man.

Hotch listened and glanced between Hayden and Emily, then he looked to Morgan as well. "Do the three of you know something I should know?" he asked. He knew Emily had been sitting on Doyle's existence all the time she'd been with the BAU. He could overlook that due to the classified nature of the issue. But he had a feeling pertinent information about Angie was being left out of the discussion.

"Doyle took Angie," Emily finally spoke. "I'm sure he has her."

"Reid's cell phone keeps going straight to voice mail," JJ reported.

"Can you track it?" Hotch turned to Garcia.

"I can and will," she replied, already having her laptop powered up and ready. "Typically when phones go straight to voicemail it means they're turned off, but all of our cells have GPS tracking installed. So…" she typed just a few things before receiving her answer. "2430 Jennings Avenue in Baltimore."

"That's the restaurant where I was supposed to meet them tonight," Scott supplied.

Again Hotch focused his attention on Emily. "Is there anything you need to tell me about why Doyle would go after Reid and your cousin?"

Emily sighed, locking eyes with Derek. He nodded encouragement. "She's not my cousin. I gave birth to her."

xxx

"Do you know Emily Prentiss?"

Reid nodded as the van jostled, bumping along the road. He knew they were moving, but he recalled very little of how they'd been taken from the restaurant parking lot. A small lump on the back of his head was causing some holes to form in his memory. But Spencer did his best to work through the pain, for his and Angie's sake. "We work together," he answered the mysterious man who sported a shaved head and vindictive eyes.

"She's FBI," Doyle frowned, having already found that out.

"Yes," Spencer nodded again, glancing past the man's shoulder to make sure Angie was okay. She was tied like him, at both the wrists and ankles. Her forehead was bleeding a little, but her eyes were open. That was a good sign.

Doyle brandished a gun with his right hand. "When she was in my bed, she went by the name of Lauren Reynolds. Did you know that?" he asked. "Did you know she was sent to spy on me? Did you know that she killed my five-year-old son?"

"I don't… I don't believe you," Reid swallowed, shaking his head. "She wouldn't do that. I know she wouldn't."

"You think you're so smart?" Doyle sneered.

"My IQ is 187, which is unarguably at genius level, so I guess you could say…"

The butt of Doyle's gun hit Reid across the lower jaw. "I don't give a damn about your IQ," his words were dismissive as he turned to Angie. "I've wasted enough time on that one. Now, tell me," he smiled at the young woman who'd been tossed into the corner of the van. "Who is Emily Prentiss to you?"

"She's my cousin…" Angie blinked, trying to catch Reid's eye so they might communicate something, even without words.

"Do you think I'm fooling around?" Doyle crouched beside her. "I saw her at that beach place with you. And I know she had a guard assigned to you for protection, not that he was much help," Doyle grinned. "Tell me the truth, Angela Hayden. Are you willing to bet this young man's life on the fact that she is your cousin?" his weapon was quickly aimed at Reid again. "Do you want to rethink your answer?"

Angie bit her lip, but there was no way she'd let anything bad happen to Spencer. "She's my mother."

Doyle smiled, the lines at the corners of his eyes crinkling with satisfaction. "Good," he nodded. "Then I'm gonna make her suffer the way she made me suffer."

The vehicle took a hard left turn, putting them all off balance. Reid used the opportunity of distraction to lunge for Doyle. He nearly had his tied hands around the man's throat, but Doyle kicked him in the stomach. Reid fell against the van panting as he looked into the barrel of Doyle's weapon. "You don't want to do this," he tried to talk to him.

"You don't know what I want," Doyle repositioned the gun against Spencer's temple. "But I know I don't need you in order to get it."

* * *

><p><strong>To be continued…<strong>


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: I do not own any rights to the TV series, _Criminal Minds_.

* * *

><p><strong>Angel<strong>

Part 9

By  
>N. J. Borba<p>

* * *

><p>"You could've told us the truth about this, too," Rossi said as he handed Emily a glass of water.<p>

She took the offered drink and sat it down on the conference table next to Angie's cell phone, which she hadn't taken her eyes off since Scott had left it there. Her daughter had already been missing for hours, and Emily wasn't amused about being cooped up with Rossi as her babysitter. But the fact that Hotch had allowed her to even still be on the team after her confession and her behavior the last few weeks, she was trying hard not to rock that boat. "Morgan knew," she sighed.

He nodded, thankful she'd confided in someone. "So that story you told me after your friend Matthew died…"

Emily sensed Rossi's discomfort. "Most of it was true," she honestly replied. "Where's Scott?"

Dave could tell she wasn't in the mood for another walk down memory lane. And he couldn't blame her given Angie and Reid's predicament. "JJ took him to get some coffee. It seemed best to keep the two of you separated for the moment. He's not exactly your number one fan right now."

"No kidding," Emily said as the door swung open.

Hotch and Morgan entered the room first with Penelope and JJ in their wake. From the looks on all their faces, Emily didn't think they had good news to deliver. That seemed to be the story of her life for the last several months, so she didn't even bother bracing herself. Derek sat beside her and was the only one to speak. "JJ, Hotch and I have been hounding Interpol for the last half hour. The only thing we got them to confirm is the deaths of Tsia Mosley and Clyde Easter."

"Damn it," Emily pushed her chair away from the table and moved across the room. Half bitten nails dug in to her palms as she stood by the window starring outside at the snow storm that was brewing. She prayed that Sean had been successful in getting his wife and daughter somewhere safe. "I'm not sitting here any longer." Emily spun around, using anger to mask her grief. "We need to find them. Now," her tone left little room for compromise.

"I agree," Hotch remained cool headed. "You're way too close to this case, Prentiss." He could see she was about to protest so he made a preemptive strike. "But, you're also the only available member of your old team who knows the profile on Doyle. The sooner you tell us what his next move is going to be, the sooner we find Reid and Angie."

Her head shook. "He's a ruthless, cold-blooded murderer. What the hell do you think his next move is going to be? He'll kill…" a phone vibrated, cutting off the horrible words she'd been about to expel. Emily looked to Angie's phone on the table, but she quickly realized it was the cell in her pocket that was ringing. She answered it. "Hello, Angie?" despite the situation, she was still hopeful the girl had been able to escape.

"Emily?" the male voice was barely a whisper.

"Reid?" she immediately hit the speaker phone button so everyone in the conference room could hear. "Reid, where are you? Is Angie with you? Are you all right?"

Silence replied for a number of seconds. "I'm not sure where… I…"

Again the line was quiet. "Reid?" Emily frantically tried to get his attention.

"There was a man with a tattoo of a shamrock on his wrist. The stem was bent, like the letter V," Spencer's voice held renewed volume as he tried to remember as much as possible.

"Valhalla was Doyle's code name," Emily sighed, speaking to the group more so than Reid. "It's him," she confirmed.

Spencer's voice turned raspy again as he tried to explain the rest to them. "He took Angie and me… never even saw him. We were in a van and he wanted to know about you. Angie told him you're her mother and he seemed happy about that. He said he was going to make you suffer the way you made him suffer. I almost had him… almost. But he threw me out of the van when it… was… still…"

The phone went silent for a third time. "Reid?" again it was Emily who desperately tried to keep him talking.

"Hello?" a deeper male voice came over the line. "The guy who was just talking on this pay phone passed out. He looks pretty badly beaten."

"This is special agent Aaron Hotchner with the FBI, who am I speaking to?" Hotch asked.

"My name's Alan Garfield, sir. I work nights at Duke's Dinner where this fellow just wandered in," the man explained. "Should I take him to a hospital or something? It looks like he found a whole heap of trouble tonight."

Hotch easily agreed, "Yes, I'd appreciate you taking him to the nearest hospital. Where would that be?"

"I suppose Rockingham Memorial. It's the only one out this way."

"That's in Harrisonburg?" Rossi asked, eyeing Garcia. He looked over her shoulder as she pulled up a map of the area.

"Yes, sir," Alan answered.

That confirmation put the team somewhat at ease, knowing Reid wasn't too far away. If Doyle had hopped a plane he could've already been two states away. "Get him there as soon as possible, please. And stay with him if you could, or get security to watch him. I'll have someone meet you there shortly," Hotch ended the call. He turned a quizzical gaze on Derek and Emily. "Why would Doyle be traveling near Harrisonburg?"

Derek shook his head, but he could tell Emily was churning something over in her head. "According to Reid, he wants to use Angie against you for some reason," Morgan addressed her exclusively. "Where do you think he's going with her?"

"If he figured out Angie is connected to me then he might know the truth about everything I did," her voice held a note of regret the likes she'd never known before. "Odds are he's figured out Declan isn't dead." Emily finally launched into the story about how she'd faked the boy's death in order to get Doyle to spill his guts in prison.

Morgan tried not to get bogged down by the fact that her secrets just kept coming. "Where is Declan now?" he asked, more focused on saving innocent lives.

"A boarding school in Richmond," she replied.

Garcia's brow wrinkled as she studied the map on her laptop. "That doesn't make any sense. Richmond is a direct route south from DC, or… well, they started in Baltimore, but you know what I mean. Still, why would they swing all the way inland to interstate 81 when I-95 would take them straight down?"

"He's worried about road blocks," Emily wrung her hands. "It might take him a little longer, but it feels safer to him. And, risk taker that he is, he still likes to play it safe. It's why he always rode in the second car," she recalled. Quickly shaking those memories from her thoughts, Emily made her plea to Hotch. "Declan's adoptive parents and I are the only ones allowed to take him off campus. I can call them, but if Doyle's gotten to them then I might be Declan's best chance of staying safe."

Hotch hated how emotionally connected she was, but he trusted that she was right. "Morgan, take Prentiss with you to Richmond." His eyes flicked to JJ. "I want you to stay here and keep trying to pull information from Interpol. And Garcia, see if you can track down van rentals in the Baltimore and DC area that might fit Doyle's needs; muted in color with very few windows." He saw the dubious look in her eyes. "I know it's vague, but work your magic. Rossi," he faced his old friend. "You're with me. We're heading to Harrisonburg."

Emily barely heard the other orders her boss had spoken. She already had one foot out the door by the time he'd dismissed them. Nothing about exiting the room or making her way into the bullpen with Derek registered until a hand caught her arm. "Emily," it was Scott who stopped her. "Where are you going? Is it about Angie?"

She shrugged away from his touch. "Let me do my job," Emily was short with him as she focused on Derek standing a few feet away, the glass door open as he waited for her.

"I know I said some horrible things earlier," the man tried to apologize. "And now I'm wasting your time when Angie's life depends on it. Just, please… don't do your job as a profiler tonight. Do your job as her mother," Scott implored.

She nodded stiffly before catching up to Derek.

xxx

Flashes of light filled the van off and on as it sped down the highway.

Angie tried to remain calm even though she'd watched Spencer get thrown from the vehicle a short time ago. She had to keep believing he'd be okay in order to retain her level-headedness. "You're wasting your time with me, you know that right?" she spoke to the man who sat with his back against the front seat, weapon still aimed on her. Angie had yet to see their driver. "She won't come after me. Emily doesn't even care about me. She abandoned me when I was born."

"If you'd told me that a few months ago, I would have believed you," Doyle replied as he inspected his gun.

"It's the truth," Angie swallowed, hoping she might change his mind. It didn't seem likely, but it was worth a try. It was worth her life.

His hallow laughter echoed through the van. "She will come. I know her." Doyle shrugged. "Well, I knew her once upon a time. She fooled me into thinking she cared about me. And she also made me believe she'd killed my son. But she could not fake some things," he insisted. "Like the way she cared for my boy. She faked his death, hid him from me, all because she feared I'd corrupt him."

"Wouldn't you have?" she boldly asked.

Doyle nodded. "What you and she call corruption, I call living. And she could have been great in that life with me and Declan. She looked to him as if he were a surrogate for something she'd lost," he stared into Angie's dark eyes. "I know now that was you. She wouldn't let herself give in to that natural urge to mother my son, at least not around me. But she took him away, kept him safe from her perception of me being the enemy. She'll continue to protect him, and you. She will come for both of you." He was confident of the fact.

"And I'm telling you, she won't," Angie countered.

He maintained faith in the opposite. "We shall see who is right, soon enough."

xxx

Derek hadn't let up on the gas pedal since they'd left Quantico. The SUV's lights flashed, helping push them through the holiday traffic as they raced toward Richmond. Snow fell softly from a sky that remained steel gray even though it was close to ten. He glanced over to find Emily starring out the window. "Are you gonna stay mad at Scott forever?" he finally broke through the silence between them. "What he said about you abandoning Angie…"

"Was true," Emily didn't let him finish. "He raised her, not me. All I've done so far is put her at risk."

"You know that's not true. It's also not healthy thinking," he was growing tired of her same old tune. "Constantly undercutting yourself is one of the worst patterns addicts can get stuck in. But I know it can also be the hardest to let go of," Derek let her know.

She chuckled dryly. "Thank you, Doctor Morgan," Emily retorted.

"I read about it in a book," he shrugged. "I want to understand more about what you're going through. In case the last few months haven't given you a clue, I have no plans to let you do all this on your own. You're stuck with me."

Emily sighed. "I don't deserve you."

"There you go again," he warned.

A second sigh escaped her lips, but she created a distraction by making another call. She let their home line ring six times, but there was no answer. After that Emily tried her friend's cell phones again. "Still nothing," she reported, slapping the cell against her thigh. "Headmaster Collins said all the kids had gone home for the holiday. He specifically told me that Janice and Craig picked Declan up around noon. So where the hell are they?" Emily pointed to a road sign. "There's the exit. Stay right and turn at the first light then left at the next light."

He followed her orders, rounding the first corner, "Why didn't you tell me about Declan?" Derek was curious. "You obviously went to a lot of trouble to protect him from Doyle. And yet you keep pushing Angie away. Seems like some inconsistencies in your parenting methods."

"Not really," she spoke softly, pointing out the next few streets to turn on to. "I gave them both what I believed would be better lives, without me in them." Emily turned to face him with challenging eyes. "And that's not self-recrimination. It's just a matter of me not being in the right head-space at either point in my life to take care of them. I can still barely take care of myself," she finally cracked a small smile.

He smiled as well; glad she was actually opening up further. "But you're getting better, Emily. Every day," Derek tried to assure her. "You believe that, don't you?"

"I want to," she agreed. "Morgan, stop right here," her focus took a swift turn as she spotted the house where Declan and his parents lived.

The two of them ran up the front walk and instantly noticed the door was ajar. Derek motioned for her to follow him in. The living room was lit by two lamps and the flicker of a television in the corner. The place was high end, but cozy with leather furniture, a padded dog bed, and quilts draped over chairs. There were even framed pictures on the walls; two parents, blue-eyed boy and a golden retriever. They looked every bit the perfect family.

As Derek and Emily entered the dining room they were confronted by the complete opposite of perfect and cozy. Two bodies lay on the white carpet, blood stains hallowing their heads.

Emily bit her lip; starring down at the dead faces of two people she'd considered friends. That made four friends gone in a short period of time. A noise in the next room caused her to resume profiler mode. She followed Derek again as he led the way in to the kitchen. Nothing seemed out of place, but a light was shining from beneath a door with a painted sign that read: pantry. Morgan stood on one side, Emily the other. He nearly ripped the door off its hinges and they aimed guns at a crouching boy with fearful eyes.

"Please, don't hurt me," Declan cried.

"Hey, buddy, it's okay. Come here," Emily sheathed her weapon. "It's me, Emily," she spoke gently as she wrapped her arms around the boy and helped him stand.

Declan clung to her. "Emily," he sniffed against her shoulder. "They're dead. They…"

"I know," she cooed, her heart sinking even further as her head tried not to think about Angie.

With a hand against her back, Morgan whispered. "I'm gonna check the rest of the house."

Emily nodded as Derek took off. She got Declan to sit at the kitchen table, but she stayed close holding his hand. "Can you tell me what happened?"

He sniffed. "I was over at a friend's place tonight. Mom and dad said they wanted me to stay home since it was my first night of holiday break, but Danny really wanted to show me his early Christmas gift," the boy explained. "We played video games for hours and his parents just dropped me off. And I found…"

She watched his bravery dissolve into tears. "It's going to be okay," Emily responded without thinking. It was a stupid thing to say, but she couldn't think of anything better.

"No sign of Doyle," Derek said upon returning to the kitchen a few minutes later.

The sound of a dog barking came from the back yard and Declan looked out the window. "Maggie's upset, I should get her."

"It's not safe here, buddy. I want you to go with Derek to the car, okay?" she urged the boy. "I'll go outside and get Maggie for you." Emily looked to Derek. "She knows me, and I know the surroundings. I'll meet you back at the SUV."

Morgan nodded. "I doubt I need to tell you to be quick," he implored.

"I know," she slipped out the back door, still unable to get Angie out of her head. Emily wondered again about Doyle's plan for the girl. He clearly hadn't been able to get to Declan, which meant he was probably very pissed off at the moment. But if he'd gotten the parents to talk before he killed them, then he might be headed to Declan's friend's house. She needed to let Derek know that possibility.

The snowfall outside was increasing steadily and Emily shuddered as she speedily made her way across the back yard and approached the dog house. "They should have brought you in tonight," she smiled at the normally mild-mannered dog. But Maggie kept barking even as Emily grabbed her collar and unhooked the lead line.

"She _was_ inside, love," a voice spoke from the shadows. "I brought her out in hopes the boy would come for her. But you'll do for now."

Emily reached for her gun, but she wasn't quick enough. The blow came from behind.

xxx

Her eyelids slid upwards, slowly, but even open eyes didn't make the darkness fade much. The floor was hard and cold; most likely concrete. Emily had difficulty sitting up, which she soon learned was due to her hands being tied behind her back and her ankles taped together. But, as her eyes finally began to take focus in the dark room, neither of those things bothered her half as much as seeing Angie seated inches away. There were so many things Emily wanted to say to the girl.

"Spencer is alive," Emily gave her good news first. She didn't mention that the last she'd heard from him had been before he'd passed out. It didn't seem an important detail at the moment. "Are you okay?" She noticed that Angie's hands were bound in front of her, but her legs seemed to be free.

Angie looked away. "Why would you care?"

"You're mad at me, right?"

Angie shrugged.

"Ah," Emily actually smiled. "And now you're not talking to me," she guessed.

"Isn't that what you wanted?" Angie asked.

Emily shook her head. "I guess you really are my daughter. At least in all the bad ways," she lamented.

"Ugh," Angie growled in frustration. "Why can't I stay upset at you?" she asked, but didn't expect a reply. "You shouldn't say things like that. I've been reading this book about alcoholism and the stages of addiction. It says that self-loathing and all that, apparently it's one of the hardest cycles for addicts to break out of."

"Now you remind me of Derek," Emily sighed.

"I still haven't met him," Angie replied a little softer. "I was looking forward to it at your BAU party. He must be a pretty special guy to put up with you."

"Or crazy," Emily shrugged.

"Why do you do that?" the young woman asked. "I try to have a normal conversation with you and you pretend that people caring about you doesn't matter." Angie brought her hands up to her face and rubbed her tired eyes. "I don't get you. Derek obviously cares about you, Spencer practically worships you, and I just want to get to know you. But you keep pushing us all away."

Hearing those words made Emily proud. "You're right," she nodded.

Angie sighed. "I'm pretty sure you're the most frustrating person I've ever met."

"You haven't met my mother yet," Emily quipped.

The girl smiled. "It's not going to work," she declared. "I admit I was disappointed the first time you sent me away. And I was crushed the second time. But now I'm just annoyed. My guess is you grew up with a lot of tough love. So…" Angie sat forward. "Now I'm going to shove some mushy, sentimental love down your throat." She reached for the locket around her neck. "My dad gave me this after my mom died."

"You told me," Emily had to admit she wasn't sure what to expect next from the girl.

"Right," Angie nodded. "Well, when he gave it to me he said it was so I'd always have my parents with me. So I'd always know how much they loved me even if they weren't with me any longer," she opened the locket and held it up for Emily to see. Angie pointed to the right side of the locket. "That picture was taken of the three of us on my first birthday."

Emily couldn't help smile at the sweet, chubby faced girl. "Your parents look so happy, and so proud."

"They were. They loved me very much, and they told me every day." Angie reached for the piece of paper that was folded up and stuffed in the other side of her silver locket. "This is a note my mother wrote for me." She held it for Emily to see. "Will you read it to me?" she asked.

"No," Emily's head shook. "That's too personal. I can't…"

"Please," Angie insisted. "I want you to."

With a heavy heart, Emily finally glanced at the words on the paper. Her heart leapt into her throat. She hadn't been expecting to recognize the handwriting that stared back at her from the page. "Please take good care of my little angel," she whispered hoarsely.

"My dad told me father Quinn found it in the folds of my baby blanket at the church," Angie revealed. "You wrote that for me, didn't you?"

"Yes," Emily took a shaky breath.

The girl folded the paper and placed it back in her locket, closing the necklace for safe keeping. "That note was why my parents named me Angela," she said. "So, between the name and the note I carry with me every day… you've always been with me, even when you didn't think you were."

"You're right," the older woman agreed. "That was pretty damn sappy."

"You wrote it," Angie grinned.

Emily smiled. "Yes," the note had sent her spiraling to the past. "One of the few things I remember about my real father was that he called me his little angel. When I was six we lived in New York near central park. He'd pick me up from school on Fridays and we'd get ice cream in the park and I'd sit on his shoulders. He said I was like an angel perched up there, and I felt like I was on top of the world."

Angie was touched that she'd shared that happy memory with her. "When we get out of here, we should go to central park together. I've always wanted to visit."

"Maybe," Emily replied.

"We are getting out of here," the young woman added, hoping to keep Emily from slipping back into her pessimistic thoughts.

A creak of hinges interrupted them.

"Hello, Lauren…" Doyle's lilt slithered in to the room along with a streak of light from beyond the door. He held a gun in his right hand, keeping it close to his body. With his left hand he grabbed Emily by the arm and pulled her up. She struggled against him. "What's wrong, don't like your accommodations? I assure you they're much nicer than what I had in prison. For seven years I festered in that hell hole thinking I had nothing left to live for, and now you've kept him away from me again."

Emily chuckled. "Seems the only luck you have is bad luck, Doyle. Guess that tattoo was a waste of ink."

He grabbed her by the hair and pushed her onto her knees. "You are the only bad luck charm in my life," Doyle growled. "To think that I was once charmed by your pretty face and perfectly accented Italian seductions," he scoffed. "Well, I've learned the best way to turn bad luck around is to destroy the object from which it emanates. I only need to keep one of you in order to bargain for my son's life."

"Then let Angie go," Emily spoke. "You want me to suffer, so use me to get Declan back and then kill me if you wish."

The man smiled at Angie. "I told you she'd come for you. A mother bear never strays far from her cubs," Doyle said, eyes flicking back to Emily. "If I kill you first then you die knowing there's nothing you'll be able to do to help save your daughter. But, if I kill her first, then you suffer the same agony I did thinking my son was dead."

"Don't do this," Emily pleaded again.

He grabbed Angie and held the gun beneath her chin. "I think I like option number two the best."

* * *

><p><strong>To be continued…<strong>


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: I do not own any rights to the TV series, _Criminal Minds_.

* * *

><p><strong>Angel<strong>

Part 10

By  
>N. J. Borba<p>

* * *

><p>Derek's fists were clinched at his sides while circling the conference room table like a shark stalking its prey. The expansive Richmond police headquarters felt claustrophobic to him, and thinking about Emily and her daughter as victims was driving him crazy. The fear he felt for both of them, coupled with his current inability to do a damn thing about it, finally caused him to punch the nearest hard surface. His knuckles broke through a layer of paint, texture and gypsum board that rattled the wall.<p>

"Are you okay?"

Morgan turned to face the boy. He'd gotten so caught up in his thoughts that he'd completely forgotten about Declan being in the room. The poor kid was huddled in the corner on an uncomfortable looking sofa. His faithful dog lay on the floor at his feet, given special permission to be inside the police station. "I'm sorry, kid," Derek apologized.

"I don't think Richmond PD is going to appreciate your redecorating style," Hotch said from the open door.

With an unapologetic shrug, Derek faced the team leader. "I'll pay for it."

Hotch let the issue drop and entered the room. "What happened?"

Derek flexed his sore fingers, eyes aimed on Declan again. "Emily is missing."

"That much I know," Hotch replied. There'd been a brief call from Garcia which had spurred his trip to Richmond. "How did he get to her?"

"I didn't even hear a vehicle," Morgan replied stoically. He felt a little bad rehashing it all in front of Declan, but he wanted the boy close. "It took me all of two minutes, tops, to get Declan to the SUV. That's when we saw the dog run around to the front of the house. I wanted to go investigate, but I had Declan to think about. He'd called 911 from the pantry just before we got there. They were on scene about three minutes after we left Emily," he explained. "I should've gone after her when I spotted the dog, but I knew she would have been pissed if I let Declan out of my sight."

"Leaving Declan alone, even in a locked vehicle, would've been the kind of opportunity Doyle could've taken advantage of," Hotch pointed out. "I hate the thought of her in Doyle's clutches, but Emily is much better suited do dealing with him than Declan would've been. You did the right thing, Morgan," he assured him.

"Yeah?" Derek's head shook, not believing it. "Then why do I feel like I'm never gonna see her again?" Morgan took a breath, doing his best to keep moving forward. There was nothing he could change about what happened. And from the look on Hotch's face, Derek had a good feeling the team leader knew he and Emily had become more than just colleagues. He really didn't need the man pulling him off the case due to a personal conflict of interest. "How's Reid?" he changed the subject, although generally worried about his friend.

Hotch nodded toward the main precinct chamber that was visible beyond the conference room windows. "Why don't you ask him yourself," he suggested just as Reid and Rossi entered the small room. "Couldn't get him to rest in a cell?" Hotch asked of Dave.

Rossi grinned, "Not even close." Dave looked to Reid. "You must be on some good pain killers," he remarked.

"No," the younger man shook his head, though it hurt to do so. "It's just a mild concussion and hairline fractures to three of my ribs. I don't need and pain killers." Spencer knew even aspirin held the possibility of sparking his addiction. "What do we know about where Doyle took Emily and Angie?

"Nothing," Morgan replied. He kind of hated how defeatist his tone sounded, especially after harping on Emily about the same thing earlier.

"Actually, Garcia found a van that was purchased with cash on a lot in Baltimore last night," Hotch informed the excitable agent. "The guy saw Doyle's picture on the news and called in. He said Doyle used the name Ian Reynolds."

"Reynolds was Emily's alias in Italy," Derek recalled. "Did Garcia get a plate?"

"Victor, Charlie, Tango, one, three, one, two," Rossi recited from memory. "It's been out on the streets for over an hour now."

Hotch added, a little more optimistically, "All the airports on the Eastern seaboard have been closed due to the snow storm. The roads are pretty horrible, too. And I doubt he'll stray far if he believes Declan is still nearby."

There was a brief knock at the open door and the three men turned to face a dark-haired woman in uniform. "Detective's report of the murder and abduction scene," she informed them, holding a folder out. Dave took it and thanked the woman.

"Two sets of footprints in the snow headed to the back alley," Rossi skimmed the notes. "And tire tracks, large tread, most likely from an SUV or van."

"Which tells us nothing more than we already knew," Derek sighed. "Did they even follow the tracks?"

Dave nodded. "Until they came to a busy intersection where they lost them," he noted with regret, closed the folder and tossed the file onto the table. "I'm with Hotch on this one. Doyle will keep close. He'll be contacting us soon about the boy. He'll want to arrange a trade."

"Except now he has two hostages," Morgan needlessly pointed out. "And he really only needs one to negotiate Declan's release."

xxx

Angie tried not to tense up as Doyle held her close, his weapon shoved beneath her chin. She kept her eyes focused on Emily as the older woman struggled to stand. Angie had only really witnessed Emily in a position of control before. Seeing her so vulnerable now made Angie wonder what it must have been like for her, at the tender age of fifteen, to make such an impossible decision. "I'm okay," Angie whispered.

"How touching," Doyle sneered.

"We've barely had a chance to know one another," Angie directed her words toward the man. "You can use us to get your son back, but you don't need to kill us. That's not going to make you happy. Revenge only makes a person feel good for a short time. The high will fade."

Without him seeing, Emily used the wall at her back to pull herself into a standing position. She was pretty damn proud of the girl's distraction techniques but feared it wouldn't work on Ian for very long. Emily caught Angie's eye again and nodded. The girl, thankful he'd never removed her shoes, stomped down on Doyle's instep as hard as she could. And Emily lunged for him. She caught Doyle's right side with her shoulder, which sent his gun skittering across the floor.

Emily went after the gun as Angie delivered a roundhouse kick to Doyle's right kidney, reinforcing the damage Emily had already done. He doubled over for a moment, but was back up again in another second. His fist aimed for Angie's mid-section, but the girl blocked him and brought her leg all the way up to connect with his jaw. He was momentarily stunned, but the kick turned his head just enough to spot Emily inching toward his gun.

"Not so fast," Ian grabbed Emily by the ankles and managed to grasp the weapon before she could. He kicked her in the stomach and spun around to aim the gun on Angie. "Move," he motioned for the girl to join Emily in the corner. "You're certainly as feisty as your mother," Doyle said in an almost admiring manner as he wiped blood from his split lip. "It really is a shame the two of you aren't on my side. You could be useful allies."

"Never," Angie spat.

The door opened a crack and a man in a black cap stepped in to the room. "Is there a problem in here?" he asked, speaking with a deeper Irish brogue than Ian.

"Just a little fun, Liam," Doyle grinned.

Noticing his friend's injuries, the older man frowned. "I told you they'd be trouble," he chided. "I've tracked the boy to the downtown police department," he announced, his eyes staring at Emily with distain. "The other members of that one's team have arrived. I imagine they'll keep a close watch on the boy. We'll never get in and out of there without notice."

Doyle smiled as he grabbed Angie by the arm. "Then I think it's time we play our hand," he said, pushing the girl out the door and in to Liam's brutish grip.

Emily, legs still tightly bound and stomach aching, hopped across the small space. "Ian," she caught his attention before he could walk away. The man stood in the doorway and regarded her with a contradictive look of disgust and longing. "If you hurt her in any way, I will destroy you," she growled.

His expression turned smug. "You'll never get close enough again, love."

The door swung shut with a heavy metal clang, plunging Emily in to nearly complete darkness again. This time by herself.

xxx

Derek grabbed two sandwiches from a tray on the table and walked to where Declan was still curled up with his canine friend. "Turkey or ham?" Morgan offered. The boy looked up at him with tired blue eyes, but he said nothing. "Come on, kid," Derek sighed, remembering how closed off he'd become after his father's death. "I know what you're going through. And it's not gonna be okay for a long time, but you should at least eat or sleep right now."

The boy remained quiet so Derek tried another approach. He unwrapped the ham sandwich and broke off a small piece. Derek held it out toward the dog and Maggie jumped up. She snatched the treat from Derek's hand. Declan smiled a little and took the rest of the sandwich. "Thank you." He alternated between taking a bite and giving Maggie more to eat. Derek stood, squeezed the boy's shoulder, and went back to the table.

Morgan sat down across from Spencer. "You should eat or rest, too," he insisted.

Reid took a turkey sandwich, but let it sit in front of him. "They both lied to me."

It didn't take Derek long to realize what his friend was referring to. "Yeah, they did," Morgan replied as he sipped lukewarm coffee. "It was nothing personal against you, kid. Emily had a lot of trouble processing it all. And as far as Angie goes, I've never met the girl, but I imagine she just wanted to please Emily. Even if it meant lying about it to you, to all of us." He shrugged and pushed his coffee away. "Isn't that what most kids want, to please their parents?"

"I still can't believe Emily's her mom," Spencer took a small bite of his sandwich.

A smile finally found its way to Derek's lips. "I think Emily's the most surprised by that fact, and she gave birth to Angie."

The door opened. Hotch and Rossi rushed into the room with resolute expressions in place. A detective followed them with a laptop which he quickly sat down on the table. "Garcia received a message from Doyle. He wants to Skype us," Hotch explained. "She's setting up the call and will connect it to us here."

"Can she trace it?" Morgan inquired.

Penelope's imagine popped up on the screen. JJ stood next to her in the tech lair. "You didn't really just ask that, did you?" she winked. "Ready?"

Hotch nodded. "Let's do this."

Seconds later, Morgan tensed as he spotted Doyle's face starring back from the screen. He'd only seen him in pictures, but the man looked to be a formidable foe. The camera panned over to reveal another person he'd only ever seen in pictures before. Angie was seated beside Doyle, hands cuffed and mouth gaged. Derek wanted to reach through the laptop screen and strangle Doyle with his bare hands for ever thinking to harm Emily's daughter.

"Angie?" Reid gasped.

"Don't worry," Doyle spoke. "She's fine. For now. Where's my boy?" he demanded.

Morgan turned to Declan. He had no idea what the boy knew about Doyle, and he hated exposing the child to him, but it was necessary. They needed to lull Doyle into believing they'd negotiate a trade. Derek motioned the child over. He placed a hand against the boy's back and led him to the laptop's web camera view. "Where's Emily?" Morgan asked.

Doyle focused on his son. "Do you remember me?"

Declan nodded, a bit unsure. "I think so," he spoke softly. "There was a big house with a nanny and… Emily played hide and seek with me."

"Where is Emily?" Derek asked again.

"She's not important anymore," Doyle dismissed. "I'll trade Angela for my boy. In two hours I'll call with the location."

The Skype call ended. "Garcia, what did you get?" Hotch asked.

Her head shook while typing. "He somehow routed his connection via satellite through several servers in Europe. In just those few minutes it bounced from Germany to France, Spain and finally to Italy. But I did manage to get the last IP address. It belongs to a man named Jeremy Wolff."

"I know that name from the list Interpol gave me," JJ jumped in. "He was a member of Emily's team, the one sent to gather Intel on Doyle."

Hotch sighed. "JJ, relay that information to Interpol." He looked to Garcia. "Does this mean Doyle's call was untraceable on our end?"

"As much as it pains me to admit," Penelope looked crushed.

The team leader gave her a quick nod of thanks before she signed off. Hotch was about to give orders when the police chief entered the room unannounced. "We have a patrol out on Nelson Road that claims they've found the van you're looking for. It's at an abandoned warehouse. They've indicated movement inside."

"Have your officers been made?" Morgan inquired.

"They don't think so," the chief replied. "Do you want them to go in or stay put?"

"Tell them to keep their distance until we get there," Hotch made the call. "And arrange for a SWAT team to meet us," he instructed. "Reid, you'll stay here with the boy. We won't even need to put him in harm's way if we can stop Doyle now."

Declan rushed to Morgan and grabbed his arm. "Don't go," he begged. "I'm scared."

Derek knew the child had probably transferred his trust from Emily to him due to proximity. "I have to help Emily, okay? But I have a very important job for you. I need you and Maggie to look after agent Reid," Derek pointed to Spencer. "He has a concussion. If he gets sleepy or passes out, you need to tell someone. Can you do that?"

"Okay," the boy agreed.

Spencer got to his feet, protesting, "I can help."

"You'll stay in this room if you know what's good for you," Morgan countered. "I don't need to worry about anyone else getting hurt."

Nothing more was said as Derek followed Hotch and Rossi out of the room.

xxx

Angie's cuffed hands stopped her from colliding with the wall as Doyle tossed her back in to the dark room. The door slammed shut. "Are you all right?" Emily asked. Her eyes had grown used to the dark enough to watch the girl slide down the wall and sit on the floor beside her. Their shoulders touched.

"Guess I'm kind of hard to get rid of, huh?" Angie asked.

"I'm glad," Emily whispered, sensing something wasn't quite right.

Tears pooled in Angie's eyes. "I'm really not as strong as I pretend to be," she revealed.

Emily would have given anything to have free hands at that moment so she could properly console the girl. "It's okay to be scared."

"Are you disappointed that I didn't fight harder earlier?" Angie sniffed.

"No, of course not," Emily insisted. "I was actually impressed by those moves of yours."

The girl smiled through her tears. "I told you I took Karate lessons. Only made it to a green belt, though."

"That's impressive," Emily nodded. She pressed her shoulder a little closer to the girl's. "I'm not disappointed in you, Angie. And if anyone knows the meaning of that word, it'd be me. I could make a long list of people I've disappointed, staring with my parents, Matthew and John, Derek, Declan, you…" she sighed, "Oh, and my Russian tutor when I was eleven."

Angie smiled again, lifting her bound hands to wipe away the remaining tears from her cheek. "You speak Russian?" she was intrigued despite the dismal situation. It kept her mind off worrying about her dad and Spencer. And it seemed a better alternative than harping on Emily about how she'd just stepped into self-pity mode again.

"Not very well," Emily replied. "Hence the disappointed tutor. We lived in the Ukraine for about fifteen months."

"And in Rome, too," Angie said. "You must speak Italian?"

"Fluently," Emily confirmed. "And French, Spanish, Arabic… I also know a few phrases in Portuguese, German, Chinese and Japanese."

The younger woman was impressed. "I certainly didn't inherit that from you, because I struggled through two years of high school Spanish," Angie revealed. "I was always a lot better at history, math and science." She turned to face Emily, enjoying their conversation regardless of the setting. "So, did you live in China and Japan, too?"

"No," Emily bit her lip as she spoke. "I just made a few diplomatic excursions there with my parents."

"I'm jealous," Angie's eyes lit with a wistful glaze. "The farthest I've been from Baltimore was a trip to Mount Rushmore one summer with my dad. And we drove."

Emily continued to speak through gritted teeth. "You're twenty-three years old and you've never been on a plane?"

"Sad but true," the girl nodded.

Shifting her position a little, Emily kept their conversation rolling, wondering how she ever thought she'd be able to completely walk out of Angie's life. "Reid… uh, Spencer… told me you decided to stay in school this semester rather than travel."

"My dad decided." Angie shrugged. "Don't get me wrong, I love school. I love the law. I do want to be a lawyer, but it just seems like that's all there is for him. He doesn't understand that I want to do more, see more. Live a little before I get bogged down with a career."

"Funny," Emily actually chuckled. "Growing up, all I ever wanted was to stay in one place. You got that kind of life, but now you can't wait to go out and see the world."

Angie's nose wrinkled a little. "You don't like to travel?"

"I travel a lot for my job."

That response was contemplated for a moment, but it didn't slow Angie down. "Does that mean you don't want to show me Paris and the Eiffel Tower, or Rome and the Coliseum?"

"You wouldn't want me tagging along on those adventures," Emily dismissed.

"I just asked you," Angie countered.

With closed eyes, Emily grimaced through the last of the pain that she'd been trying to keep from the girl. She pulled both arms around to her front, left hand free from the handcuff that had previously shackled it. "Let me see your hands," she ordered.

"How did you…" Angie stared at Emily's wrist. "You're bleeding."

"I was actually glad when I realized Ian had cuffed my hands rather than tied them. A dislocated thumb is a small price to pay for freedom," she noted.

"Eew," Angie grimaced.

Emily smiled. "You just Karate chopped an international terrorist, but a dislocated thumb makes you squeamish?"

Angie shuddered. "There's a reason I'm studying law and not medicine."

"You have a hair pin, don't you?" Emily asked, realizing she was wasting time. "I thought I saw… there," she removed the item from Angie's hair without even asking. "Sorry about your dinner plans with Reid and your dad. I bet your hair looked lovely before all this," Emily said as she worked on Angie's lock. The cuffs sprang open in a matter of seconds.

The younger woman's brows arched. "How did you learn to pick a lock?"

"That's not something you need to know," Emily replied as she went to work on the duct tape around her ankles, which finally gave way after she used the sharp metal edge of her cuffs. "Here," she placed Angie's cuffs around the girl's wrists again. "You need to make it look like they're still on," Emily instructed. She watched the girl nod and Emily's heart constricted. "You know your father loves you, right? Despite this whole school versus travel issue."

With a slow nod, Angie eyed Emily with concern. "Why are you telling me this?"

"After he lost your mother you were all he had," Emily explained. "He became over protective." Scott had never said as much, but she'd profiled it out of him. "But he only did it because he loved you so much, and he wanted to keep you safe," she bit her lip to keep her emotions in check. Angie continued to stare at her with curious eyes. "I love you, too," Emily whispered, "Which is why you have to run the next time Ian comes."

"No," Angie protested. "I won't leave you alone."

"You've been outside this room more than once, you stand a better chance of finding an exit quickly," Emily calmly said. "I'll be Doyle's hostage until the team arrives with Declan. They'll never let the boy go, which means they'll have Doyle trapped. He won't get away. But I need you to leave first, okay? I can't do my job if I'm worried about you."

Angie wasn't as good at schooling her emotions. Her voice quaked as she spoke, "I'll do what you ask, but you have to promise you'll make it out," she said as a tear slid down her cheek. "We have to spend Christmas together with my dad and Spencer, Derek and your parents."

Emily's eyes rolled. "Who raised you, Mary Poppins?" she chuckled, finally leaning in to hug her daughter for the first time. She did so with trepidation until Angie latched on tightly.

A noise outside the door caused them to break off the union prematurely. Angie wiped her face with the sleeve of her sweater while Emily grabbed her cuffs and situated her hands so they were behind her back again. The girl did likewise. "You didn't promise," Angie whispered.

With a smile, Emily nodded. "I promise," she said, "At least the part about making it out of here. You're on your own with that Christmas gathering."

Doyle stood in the milky stream of light from the open door for a moment before he advanced toward Angie. Emily wasted no time using her legs to sweep his. He toppled and she sprang to her feet, hands out in front. "Well, well…" Doyle scoffed as he slowly got to his feet. "Aren't you the resourceful one," he jeered, reaching for the weapon at his back. "I should've just killed you back at the house earlier."

"But you couldn't do that, could you Ian?" Emily taunted, "Because you still have feelings for me."

"Only in your dreams, love," his head shook.

She smiled. "My dreams have nothing to do with you, except for the part where I stand by your grave."

"Not gonna happen, love," he confidently replied, raising the gun. "Seems fitting I kill you here in a warehouse since you staged my son's death in a similar setting. I also have the added advantage of having your precious daughter watch…" his voice trailed off as he turned to see the girl was gone. "Where the hell did she…" again his words were cut off, this time by Emily's fist connecting with his already injured jaw.

The blow barely bothered him, though, as his foot struck her in the stomach once more. Emily hit the wall and fell to her knees. He grabbed the cuffs and fastened one about her left wrist again. But, as he crouched down beside her, she kicked him in the balls. "How did that feel?" she snarled, reaching for his weapon.

Gunfire in the distance caused Emily to become distracted for a second. It was just enough time for Doyle to slap the other cuff around her right wrist. "That, my dear…" Ian hissed as he yanked her through the door. "Is the sound of your poor daughter being gunned down by Liam," he intoned. "But don't worry; you'll be joining her just as soon as I get my boy."

For the first time in ages, Emily remained confident. She had to believe Angie was okay as Ian dragged her toward a set of stairs.

xxx

Derek led the way, moving quickly through the sparsely lit warehouse. The dark-haired female officer from the precinct stuck close to his side, but it wasn't the same as having Emily at his back. They stopped behind a massive concrete column after hearing footsteps approach; quick footfalls which sounded like running. Morgan spotted the figure and stepped out of the shadows, aiming his weapon. "Don't move," he instructed, grabbing hold of the person's waist.

"Let me go!" Angie exclaimed, drawing her knee up in preparation to strike.

"Hey, whoa," Derek could see exactly where her knee was headed and his boys were not amused. "I'm not gonna hurt you," he said, letting his hold on her slack. He turned her. "You're Angie, aren't you?" The girl's whole body remained posed to strike. "I need you to calm down. You're safe now," he tried to assure her. "I'm agent Morgan, FBI."

"You're Derek," she finally took a shaky breath. "I saw a picture of you and the rest of your team at Spencer's place."

He smiled, waving his left hand for the female officer to come closer. "This isn't how I imagined our first meeting would go," Derek released her completely.

Angie panted, taking several more deep breaths to calm down. "You just showed up to rescue me so I'd say this one is going pretty darn well. But it'd be a whole lot better if we stop talking and you find Emily," she suggested. "She's still in the building somewhere with that creep."

"Okay, but I need you to go with this officer," Derek instructed. He looked the uniformed woman in the eye. "Take her outside and don't let her out of your sight."

"Understood, sir," the woman nodded and guided Angie away.

His heart slowed just a little to know half the battle was over. "Angie's exiting with Officer Keller," he reported through comms. "I'm headed…" Morgan heard gunfire and raced toward it. He hadn't gone far, though, when he heard movement overhead. His eyes aimed upward and spotted a metal staircase. Shadows moved and steps clanged dully. But it was the sound of a door opening that finally caused Derek to climb the stairs.

"Doyle's partner is dead. East and west quadrants are clear," Hotch reported through the link.

"North is also secure," Rossi chimed in. "No sign of Doyle."

Derek pounded up the stairs. "I think he's taking Emily to the roof," he informed. "I'm in pursuit." The stairs only went up three flights and Derek was at the door in less than a minute. He slowly pushed it open and led with his weapon. Derek looked left and then right in quick succession. Left held a bank of ventilation units. Right was open roof. Derek hadn't realized how old the building was until he looked straight ahead and found several brick smoke stacks in a row.

Light from the rising sun gave him a decent view of the area. The smoke stacks were the only possible hiding place on the roof. Derek advanced upon them. Seconds later a gunshot zinged by his ear. He bolted for the nearest stack and took cover. "We have this whole building secure, Doyle!" his voice echoed across the frigid morning air.

"Where's my boy?" Doyle's accented tones responded.

Morgan turned left toward the direction of the voice. "He'll be here soon," Derek lied. He darted out and sprang to the next smoke stack over. "Why don't you show me that Emily is safe so we can make the trade when Declan gets here?"

"Come a little closer, agent Morgan," Doyle replied.

Having Doyle know his name didn't leave Derek filled with confidence. He stepped out of the safety zone and moved through the fallen snow toward the other side of the roof. Derek promptly spotted them, Emily on her knees with Doyle's gun pointed at her forehead. He inched closer, completely exposed. "Emily?" Morgan called out. "You okay?"

"Oh, yeah… great," she exaggerated. "Where's Angie?"

"She's safe."

"Then what are you waiting for, an engraved invitation to shoot the bastard?"

He could imagine the impatient look on her face and it made him grin. "Figured you'd want that pleasure," Derek replied.

"Kind of in a bind here," Emily called back, waiting and watching Doyle. His concentration was on Morgan, seeing him as the bigger threat at the moment. "Besides, I don't need the big glory moments to boost my ego like I know you and Ian do," she continued.

Doyle chuckled. "Seems she's found someone new to fall for her tricks," he deduced from the undertones of their banter. "How sweet."

Emily picked that moment to make her move, hoping Doyle was sufficiently distracted by the conversation. She sprung forward and shoved him toward the parapet wall. Doyle lost his balance and groped for the wall with one hand, the other hand losing its grip a little on his gun. Emily squatted and pushed against his feet in the hopes of helping him the rest of the way over. But the sound of gunfire resounded in her ears, and darkness threatened to take hold of her again.

"No!" Derek found a clear shot and fired. He watched Doyle clutch his chest as the impact finally finished the job Emily had started, sending Doyle backwards over the wall.

Morgan raced toward Emily and knelt beside her. "Hey," he spoke gently, even though he was scared out of his mind by what he saw. The left side of her face was completely drenched in blood. He couldn't pinpoint the source of her wound, but her right eye was still open and he felt a weak pulse at her neck. "You're gonna be okay," Derek insisted.

He heard footsteps behind him sloshing through the snow. Hotch's voice radioed for paramedics. Rossi's voice confirmed Doyle was dead. Derek focused solely on Emily, watching as her lips moved but no sound emitted. "Don't try to talk," he discouraged, removing his vest and jacket. Derek placed them over her in hopes of keeping her warm. "Just stay with me," he gripped her cuffed hands. When her right eye slid shut he squeezed her hands even tighter.

"Please," Morgan begged as snow began to fall again. "Hold on."

* * *

><p><strong>To be continued…<strong>


	11. Chapter 11

Disclaimer: I do not own any rights to the TV series, _Criminal Minds_.

Merci beaucoup for all of your lovely reviews. I value each of them. Sorry this part took a bit longer than others. Please enjoy.

* * *

><p><strong>Angel<strong>

Part 11

By  
>N. J. Borba<p>

* * *

><p>"Hello, Emily."<p>

She opened her eyes, confused by the familiar voice but unfamiliar surroundings. The room she stood in was very white with a single bed and only one piece of artwork hanging on the wall; an enlarged photo of a beach scene. Machines lined the wall behind the bed and Emily finally looked down at the person laying there. "Oh, crap," she whispered, staring at the paleness of her face, a line of stitches down the left side of her head and some pretty nasty bruising and swelling around her eye. "Am I dead?"

"No, you're not dead," another voice spoke. "Yet."

Emily turned to discover the source of both voices. She found Matthew standing to her right, looking exactly how she remembered him as a young man. And John was leaning against a wall in the corner of the room. His fifteen year old body was scrawny, with green eyes and close-cropped hair that his ex-military father had insisted upon, and which John had always detested. "Yet?" she questioned the term he'd used.

"And hopefully not for another forty years or more," Matthew jumped in, aiming a blue-eyed glare at John. "Could you please not scare her," he admonished.

"So…" she sighed, still staring at the teenaged versions of her old friends. "Then why am I seeing dead people? Are the two of you angels?"

John laughed dismissively. "Not even close."

"But you're both young. Why is that?" Emily asked, ever the investigator. "Is this some Christmas thing? You two are here for one of those 'It's a Wonderful Life' type interventions, right?" She glanced down at her unconscious body again. "And if I don't wake up by midnight on Christmas I'll turn into a pumpkin."

"Um," Matthew shook his head. "I think you're mixing fairytales and movies." He and John exchanged shrugs. "We're just as clueless as you are about what's going on here. Could be a dream for all I know," the boy suggested.

She didn't take time to try and figure it out. "I'll make this real easy for all of us. I sacrificed myself willingly in order to keep Doyle from hurting anyone else I care about. So, I'm okay with death. They'll all be better off without me anyhow." Emily groaned, annoyed at herself. "And now I even sound like a movie character," she lamented.

"I see three people in this room right now who wouldn't be better off without you," Matthew said as he waved a hand toward a section of the room Emily hadn't explored yet.

Her head turned to find three figures huddled in another corner. Reid sat beside Angie on an oversized chair, a huge oval window on the exterior wall behind them. Declan was kneeling across from them, a low wooden table between them. Paper cups littered the table, stained by the remnants of coffee and orange juice. And there was a travel size chess board set up, which had a lot more black pieces in play than white. Spencer grabbed one of the black pieces and slid it across the board. "Checkmate," he declared.

Declan frowned, his blue eyes clouded by defeat. "I'm going to sit with Emily," he announced, getting to his feet and moving toward the bed.

Angie nudged Spencer's left side with her elbow. She held a hand to her mouth a second later when she remembered his injured ribs. "I'm so sorry," the girl apologized. "But," her head nodded toward Declan. "You could've let him at least win one game."

"Let him win?" Reid pondered the foreign words. "You can't win unless you… win," he let her know.

Soft laughter escaped her lips. "So profound, Dr. Reid," Angie teased him. "I just meant, well… he's pretty lost right now. His parents died two days ago and Emily…" her train of thought faded as she stared at the bed where Declan had his head resting against Emily's thigh. "The poor kid could use a boost, you know."

"But letting him win would be a lie," Reid pointed out. "Kind of like you and Emily lying to me."

Her eyes turned back to the man she'd grown to care about very deeply, even more so after their ordeal. "I'm sorry I lied to you. It was wrong. I have no excuse."

"Morgan said it was probably because you wanted to please her," Spencer replied, resetting the chess board.

"He's right," Angie agreed.

Reid reached down and nervously grabbed the leather commuter bag at his feet. He could see that Angie was worried and he felt bad for even bringing up the lie. It didn't matter so much, not when Emily was still unconscious. Mostly he wanted to do something to take Angie's mind off the past forty-eight hours. "I probably should've given you this earlier," Spencer said as he pulled a small square box out of his bag. "Christmas morning is usually the time for gifts, but everything has been a little… well, here," he placed it on her lap.

A smile lit her face even before she opened the silver box and pulled the gift out. "It's lovely," she held the wooden star in her hands, though uncertain about what it was for.

"It's a puzzle," he informed her. "And there's this story that goes along with it, about some prince who catches a fallen star for a fair maiden and…"

"That little rat," Emily shook her head, though it didn't seem they knew she was present. "I can't believe he's using my story after giving me crap for it."

"Proves to me that he admires you," Matthew said.

John chuckled. "And you're the one who told him to be creative with his gift to her."

"How do you know about that?" Emily sighed, still massively confused about what was going on. John only shrugged as they listened to the rest of the conversation.

"I'm probably not recounting it right, I think it's meant to be romantic," Reid said as he showed her how to take the puzzle apart. "Emily told me that story a month ago while we were returning from a case. Even with all that's been going on lately she still seems to believe in this romantic stuff. My idea of romantic would be to tell you you're pulchritudinous."

Angie chuckled and kissed him on the lips, briefly, but tenderly. "Thank you, Spencer," she whispered. "This means a lot to me, the gift as well as knowing Emily is a fan of fairytales." Seconds later she presented the star to him, fully pieced together.

"You always did like fairytales," John smiled softly; more of the shy boy Emily remembered peeking out. "Always thought everything was going to work out for all of us," he recalled.

"When did that optimism fade?" Matthew asked.

She paid little attention to them, not wanting to answer the tough question. "They're actually kind of cute together," Emily remarked, still focused on Angie and Reid. "And both too darn smart for their own good," she marveled at the puzzle her daughter had figured out in moments.

"You know what they say about apples falling from trees," John quipped. "You sell yourself short, Emily. She's smart and beautiful because she takes after you."

"Yeah, well… let's just hope that's the only way in which she takes after me," Emily replied. In a further attempt to avoid Matthew and John, she let her eyes fell upon Declan. He was still pressed against her body, which remained motionless on the bed. His delicate fingers rested against hers. Emily could hear him whispering something and moved closer to get a better listen. Her non-corporal form crouched beside the boy.

"I know he was a bad man," Declan spoke with a heavy heart. "I remember him hitting me once when I was little. What if I'm like him? I don't want to be a bad person," he took a shaky breath. "You always said I could talk to you about anything if I wanted. I need to talk to you now, Emily."

Matthew stood right beside her again. "Sure sounds like he needs you."

Emily tried to reach out and touch the boy, but her hand went through him. "Shit," she swore. The room's door opened and closed, causing her to turn around. Her eyes widened as she spied the last people she'd been expecting to find in her hospital room. Elizabeth Prentiss stood there by the door looking rather out of place. "Oh, this is just perfect," Emily sighed dramatically. "Apparently I'm not even safe from my mother while unconscious."

John and Matthew made no comments.

"Ambassador," Reid instantly shot to his feet. "It's, uh… good to see you again," he greeted the woman as he stood with arms stiffly at his side, feeling somewhat like he was in the presence of royalty. He watched Angie stand, curiosity about the woman flooding her dark eyes. The ambassador nodded in acknowledgement of his words, but said nothing. Reid promptly went to Emily's bed and placed a hand to the boy's shoulder. "Declan, would you like to go and get some hot chocolate?" he offered.

The child sat up. He caught the intense looks being shot between the women in the room and knew Reid was trying to make excuses to leave. "Okay," he agreed.

Angie watched them go, thankful for Spencer's exit. She turned her attention fully to the older woman once they were alone in the room. "You're her mother," the words were not a question. The resemblance between all three of them was quite obvious.

"And you must be Angie, the child she gave away," Elizabeth was blunt. "You look like her," she said. The girl nodded and then they stood starring at one another for several long seconds. "I'm afraid I don't know what to say here," the older woman finally admitted. "All my years of diplomatic service and I'm at a loss for words."

"That makes two of us," Angie relaxed a little just to have that out in the open. "I mean, not the diplomatic service part, but… you know," she stumbled over her words as she moved to sit in the chair Declan had vacated. "I don't think they make greeting cards for this sort of occasion." Angie took one of Emily's hands in hers.

Elizabeth's brows bunched as she edged closer to her daughter's bed. She clutched her purse like a lifeline. "I suppose she's told you I'm mean and nasty."

"No," Angie looked up, quick to dispel any such notion. "But I gather your relationship is strained."

A small bit of relief washed over Elizabeth as she sat her purse down on the foot of the bed. "It wasn't always," her voice softened a little as she regarded the injuries her daughter had sustained. "When Emily was a little girl she looked up to me, wanted to be just like me."

The young woman smiled softly to hear that. "What changed?"

"I did." Elizabeth finally sat down across from Angie. She took her daughter's other hand. "I blamed myself for your father's… condition," she spoke to Emily more so than the younger woman. "I had a successful career and he floundered from job to job. So, I thought having a family would help him find a purpose. I thought a baby would make our family life complete," she actually smiled. "We adored you. We were a family with you in our lives, and your father was truly happy… until the next bout of depression hit."

Liz's eyes darkened as years-worth of buried emotions rushed forth. "When your father died… after he killed himself," she admitted. "I changed. Not for the better. I felt that it had been my fault. I feared I hadn't been a good enough wife or mother, so I shut myself off. I married Victor because he was a good match politically, for my career. Not a great deal of romance there," she revealed with regret.

"I sent you to the best schools thinking that was all you needed," Liz continued. "And I never talked about what happened to your father, because I thought if I didn't talk about it then it would never affect you." Her eyes moved to settle on Angie. "I was foolish. And I taught my daughter to be the same as me, to never let anyone get close."

Angie smiled reassuringly. "That wasn't so hard to admit, was it?"

"Excruciating," Liz replied. But she cracked a very thin smile. "I just hope it's not too late to tell her again when she can hear me."

Emily was stymied, but amazingly touched by what she'd just witnessed. "I heard you, mother," she said, though they couldn't hear her.

xxx

The room stayed the same, but the clock on the wall spun as Emily remained rooted to the floor by her hospital bed. Next thing she knew, Scott had entered the room and greeted Angie with a hug. Emily momentarily felt jealous of his presence there. "I thought that was it," Emily said as she spotted Matthew and John again. "Before, with my mother. She apologized, so I'm supposed to wake up now, right?"

They both shrugged, but said nothing.

"Oh, I forgot. You two know nothing about what's going on here," her eyes rolled.

"Do you want to wake up?" John finally asked.

"Because earlier you said you made the sacrifice willingly, and no one would miss you," Matthew pointed out.

Emily sighed, "Just what I need, the nit-picky ghosts of Christmas past." She successfully avoided John's question, though.

"Any change?" Scott asked his daughter as they broke apart.

Angie's head shook. "The doctor told us it would probably be about twenty-four hours before the swelling went down. And that she'd wake up after that." She wrapped arms around her stomach. "But it's been nearly forty-eight hours now and…"

Scott smiled as he ran a gentle hand along her cheek. "Sometimes doctors don't know everything," he tried to assure her. The two of them walked to Emily's bed and he stood at the foot, looking down at the woman. "I said some horrible things to you the other day. Granted, I was very worried about Angie, but still I had no right. I know you did what was best for your baby girl, and I thank God every day for Angie coming into my life."

"Daddy," Angie bit back tears. "I'm pretty sure she doesn't blame you," the girl let him know, recalling how Emily had assured her of his love while they were locked away.

He nodded slowly, but he kept his eyes on Emily. "When I saw Miranda after her accident," Scott gulped. "She was hooked to life support, but the doctors said there was nothing to be done for her. I had to make the decision to let her go, and it was the hardest decision of my life," he explained. "But the one thing that I was thankful for during it all was that Angie never had to see her mother like that," Scott whispered. "If you could wake up real soon I'd appreciate it, because she doesn't need to see you like this."

Not sure if she was a ghost or not, Emily still felt a lump in her throat. "I swear, if they hold hands and start singing carols… I'm heading toward the light."

Matthew smiled. John shook his head at her.

Scott and Angie stepped out of the room, leaving Emily with her fellow spirit friends. The clock kept spinning, heading toward midnight. Part of her actually wondered if she would turn in to a pumpkin or maybe just melt away. "Am I going to die?" she finally asked, fear lacing her tone. Emily turned to see Matthew and John wearing blank faces. The room was completely silent, aside from the slow steady beep of her heart monitor.

The door opened again.

Emily expected a nurse, but was pleasantly surprised by her visitor. With hands on her hips, she regarded the man. "Where the heck have you been all day?"

He carried a black duffle bag over to her bedside and dropped it by the floor. Derek then turned away, barely having glanced her way. "This place is a mess," he noticed the cluttered table and went about tossing cups and other food wrappers in the trash. Morgan stowed Reid's chess pieces inside the travel board and placed it on the expansive windowsill. Then he continued to straighten the small room.

"What are you doing?" Emily asked, never having seen him so tidy before.

With the room pretty much spotless, Derek finally sat by her bed. He was a good two feet from the bed, though. His elbows rested on jean-clad knees as he rubbed hands over his shaved head. Morgan looked at the floor as he spoke. "Sorry I haven't been here much. I doubt it will surprise you to know that the FBI brass doesn't even take holidays off. The team and I have spent most of today and yesterday fielding questions about what happened with Doyle," he explained.

"Really?" she frowned. "Then why was Reid here all afternoon with Angie and Declan?"

"And then there's your condo," he sighed, sitting up a little. His eyes briefly looked to her bed then shifted to the wall behind her. "It's become a half-way house. Declan has been staying there with me the last two nights. Garcia's there with him now. And of course Resi and Maggie," he almost laughed. "They've been getting on like cats and dogs do. Afraid that vase near the entry got shattered," Derek shrugged apologetically.

Her head shook. "I don't give a crap about that vase, Derek." She watched John and Matthew, still roaming about the room. "Why isn't he even looking at me?"

"Could be guilt," Matthew guessed, "For not reaching you in time to stop Doyle from shooting you."

John blinked. "Or he thinks you're grotesque with that nasty scar."

"Whose brilliant idea was it to send me fifteen year old boys to help?" she sighed.

"Why do you even care if he's being aloof?" Matthew questioned. "Isn't he better off without you, too?"

The sound of the door caused Emily and Derek to turn. Angie slipped in to the room and waved as she walked over to join Derek. "I thought I'd convinced your father to drive you home," Morgan said as he stood and greeted the girl with a quick hug.

"Her you barely know, but she gets a hug?" Emily grew more perturbed by his behavior.

Angie smiled. "You did, and I'm going. I just…" her eyes settled on Emily again.

Derek rested a hand against the girl's back. "She's gonna be fine. Everything will be okay," he told her.

"Do you have kids?" Angie asked.

"What?" his brows bunched, briefly confused by the question. "No, why do you ask?"

She aimed a worried look at Emily's unconscious body. "Because that was very parental of you," Angie pointed out. "Parents always tell kids that everything is going to be fine, no matter what the situation is."

"Yeah, I suppose they do." Derek revealed a slight smile. He could tell there was something more on the girl's mind, though.

"You love her, don't you?"

He really hadn't been expecting that question. But as his gaze finally rested upon Emily for the first time since he'd entered the room, Morgan realized what an idiot he'd been for trying to avoid her. "Very much," he admitted to the girl.

"Have you ever told her that?" Angie asked.

His head shook. "Not exactly," Derek replied with regret.

"Me either," she quickly said, feeling better for having gotten that out of her system. It wasn't something she'd felt able to tell Reid or even her father. "Emily said it when we were in that warehouse. I never thought she'd be the first of the two of us to say it. And then… I don't know… I got distracted by everything else and I never said it back to her," the girl lamented. "Instead I had her make some silly promise."

"Hey," Morgan squeezed her shoulder. "You'll say it to her when she wakes up."

"Right," Angie grinned. "Because everything's going to be okay," she regurgitated.

"You catch on quick, kid," the corners of his eyes crinkled as he smiled. "Now, let your dad drive you home. Get some rest."

"Okay," she nodded, leaned in and kissed his cheek then rushed out the door.

Derek took a deep breath and sat down again. This time his eyes settled on Emily. "You know she tried to neuter me when we first met," he chuckled, much more at ease. "She's a pretty amazing kid."

"Without any help from me," Emily replied, glad to see him in better spirits. She just wished it could have been her to put him in that mood.

He unzipped the duffle and pulled out his old purple and white Northwestern shirt. Derek carefully pulled her blankets down a little and laid the t-shirt over her hospital gown. Then he settled the blankets against her waist again. "I know you like to sleep in this."

"That's sweet," she smiled.

His hand hovered above her injured forehead. "Do you have any idea how lucky you are that Doyle's bullet didn't kill you?" Morgan asked her lifeless form. "Reid keeps extrapolating about gun angles and velocity. Personally, I just like to think you're too damn hard-headed for any bullet to get through." He actually laughed softly. "Garcia thinks you should have the missing part of your eyebrow tattooed on, but I'm still holding out that it will grow back once everything heals."

Morgan watched her for a moment. "The swelling is what has your doctor worried. Bullet impact is still pretty powerful even if it doesn't penetrate bone or muscle. Think about a bullet proof vest getting hit. That certainly knocks the wind out of a person," he grinned. "Okay, now I sound like Reid."

Emily shrugged. "There are worse people to sound like."

"How about a change of topic," he suggested. "Resi really misses you…"

"Right, I'm sure it's the cat that misses me," she was amazed by how stubborn he could be. "I'm lying on my death bed here, but you can't even admit that you're the one missing me right now?" Emily smiled again, despite her frustration. "And you claim I'm hard-headed."

"Then there's the matter of Declan," Morgan sighed. "Poor kid is having a really difficult time of it right now. Not that I can blame him." The room fell silent again for a while. "I was actually thinking maybe you and I could, I don't know… maybe we could take him in?" he suggested with a great deal of apprehension. Derek watched her chest rise and fall, but still there was no sign of her waking. "I thought sure that'd get you to wake up, even if only to argue."

He sat back a little. "I would, I think. Help you raise him." Derek shook his head. "Okay, the truth is… I'd promise you almost anything right now if you'd just wake up." Again he waited, hoping for her to sit up and debate all the reasons why the two of them raising a kid together was a bad idea. "Actually that's not the whole truth. I've been avoiding you. But that sounds pretty pathetic, huh, me avoiding you while you're unconscious?"

"Very," she agreed.

Morgan took her hand and kissed her palm. "I'm just… I'm scared, Emily."

"Scared?" That was about the last thing she'd expected from him.

"When I first met you years ago I never thought you'd give me the time of day outside of work. And then when we first started to sleep together I figured it was just a matter of letting off steam. You know… the stress of the job and the fact that we knew each other and were comfortable with one another. And don't get me wrong, sex with you is pretty damn amazing. Especially that thing you do with your tongue and the back of my…"

She shot a glare at Matthew and John who were still standing in the room. "This is kind of personal, don't you think?"

They each shrugged, clearly not leaving yet. "Seems you've learned some things since we were together," John arched his brows.

"I was a kid then," she replied.

Derek played with the sleeve hem of his Northwestern shirt. "It grew to be more than sex, though. Just reading a book in your bed became a luxury for me. And waking up with you beside me, making you breakfast. I never thought I'd want those things with anyone. And I'm afraid if you don't come back from this that I'll never find those simple pleasures in life again, not with anyone else. I'm also afraid that if you do wake up you'll kick me to the curb for good this time."

"I guess I can see how you'd think that," she whispered. "Since that's all I've ever shown you I know how to do."

"Damn it, Emily," he slapped the metal arms of his chair. "I don't want to keep harping on you about every little thing, or spend what time we have left sobering you up after a bender. I want to spend my time telling you how incredibly beautiful you are, inside and out. I want to chase down UnSubs with you, and gang up on Reid together." He carefully let a finger touch the tender flesh of her forehead. "I want to caress that spot behind your knees where I know you're dreadfully ticklish," he grinned. "Or read Vonnegut to you… stark naked."

Emily licked her lips. "Is it possible for a ghost to be completely turned on?"

"You're not a ghost," Matthew stated.

Her eyes rolled. "Then what?" she snapped. "I want to wake up, okay. I'm ready," Emily waved a hand at Derek. "Look at him, he's pathetic without me. And Angie seems to like me for some strange reason. Reid, well… come on, he needs a lot of guidance still. My mother actually wants to tell me to my face that she made some mistakes raising me, that's not to be missed. And I…" she sighed, looking from one friend to the other. "I still have a lot of growing up to do."

John shrugged. "Sounds like she's got it figured out."

"Then why are you still here?" Emily asked.

"Maybe…" Matthew stepped toward her. "So I can tell you it was never your fault. I started doubting the church's theology long before you came in to my life, Emily."

"And I started drinking at age twelve, years before we met," John added. "I only dared you that night because I..."

"No," she stopped him. "I don't care. It doesn't matter anymore. None of that matters. I don't blame you, or even my mother. I can't even blame my dad's drinking and depression, or genetics," Emily trailed off, realizing exactly what she was saying. "I'm in charge of my life. I'm the one to blame, but…"

Both young men smiled in anticipation. "But?" they each prompted her.

She nodded in understanding. "I forgive myself. And now it's time to move on."

As the words escaped, her friends disappeared. No puff of smoke or bright light. They were just gone. Emily had mixed emotions about their departure, but she focused on Derek again. "I guess that's it. I forgive myself." She shrugged. "How very after school special," Emily quipped. But she realized her body and spirit were still separated. "Okay," she glanced at the floor. "No ruby slippers," Emily looked around the room again. "The scarecrow and tin man are still gone. So, why haven't I woken up yet?"

The previous slow, steady beep of her heart on the monitor came to a sudden stop.

"Emily?" Morgan jumped to his feet.

Her head shook. "Hey, guys…" she looked around for Matthew and John. "When I said it was time to move on this isn't what I had in mind."

Derek watched helplessly, holding tightly to her hand as a nurse brought over a defibrillator. "Not like this," he begged. "Why would you hold on for two days just to leave us all in the end?" he grew angry. "Fight this, Emily. Fight for Angie and Declan." The heart monitor sounded a continuous beep; a flat line. "Fight, damn it," he growled. "Fight for me."

Even in spirit form she felt like her heart was breaking. "This is not the way fairytales are supposed to end," Emily whispered.

* * *

><p><strong>To be continued…<strong>


	12. Chapter 12

Disclaimer: I do not own any rights to the TV series, _Criminal Minds_.

* * *

><p><strong>Angel<strong>

Part 12

By  
>N. J. Borba<p>

* * *

><p>Voices filtered through the fog of her mind. The only sense that seemed to be working at the moment was that of hearing. She'd gone from watching everything in the room to feeling like she was trapped again, darkness surrounding her. The voices were familiar. Penelope's sweet laugh. JJ's concern. Reid's boyish tone. Hotch's support. Rossi's jovial beat. They were all a comfort, but Emily desired to see their faces. She craved the ability to touch their hands or smile to reassure them she was still alive. Except she wasn't certain of that fact.<p>

Before long, the mood in the room seemed to shift. Footsteps shuffled. A door opened and closed several times. It was quiet. Then more voices filled her head.

"Did she have a heart attack?" Derek's words were tinged with worry.

A calm male tone replied, this one foreign to Emily. "No, her heart is perfectly fine. Very strong in fact."

"Then why did it stop a few hours ago?" again Derek's voice trickled to her ears. His anger was brewing. "You had to revive her," he clipped. "First you tell us she's fine and that she'll wake up in twenty-four hours, which bleeds into forty-eight hours. After which time her heart stops."

"What we believe occurred," it was the calm voice again, "Is that the swelling pressing against her brain was more serious than we originally thought. It's difficult to be exact about matters dealing with such a sensitive and complicated area of the body," his explanation had Emily imagining the dubious glare on Derek's face. "The swelling finally receded, but it did so in such a quick manner that it sent her body into a state of shock. Hence the reason her heart stopped, though very briefly."

Emily heard Derek sigh. "So, is she going to wake up?" he demanded.

"In about twelve hours," the doctor replied. "Give or take."

"Right," Derek scoffed.

"Did the swelling cause any permanent damage?" this voice was different entirely. Female, curious, tired. Emily knew it was Angie.

"We don't think so," voiced the calm doctor.

Derek's groan was palpable. "You don't think so? I'm hearing a lot of believe and think, but nothing definite. And nothing different from what you told me three days ago when we first brought her here."

"Sir, I understand that this is frustrating for you," the calm voice replied. "But I assure you we have done, and will continue to do, everything possible for the patient. We have every reason to believe she'll make it through this without any lasting damage other than some slight scarring."

"Thank you, doctor," Angie's gracious voice spoke. "I'm sorry about…" her tone faded. Emily guessed she was walking the doctor toward the door.

There was a gentle hum of breath near her ear. "I love you," Derek whispered. "But I need you to wake up so I can tell you. Just for a second, Emily," he begged. "Just so Angie and I, your mother… all of your friends that have been in and out the last few days. We all just need some small sign that you're going to be okay. Then you can sleep as long as you want. I'll even take you home, tuck you in and crawl into bed beside you. Let you sleep for days if you wish."

She tried to respond, tried with all her might. But nothing happened. And soon even her hearing was swallowed by the darkness.

xxx

It happened in a rush.

The weight of her body thrust back into the consciousness of her mind. Her limbs felt massively heavy and her head throbbed. Both eyes blinked open, though the left only made it to half-mast. Dim light pierced her vision, far too bright for her weary senses. The sensation eased a little as seconds ticked by. The room slowly came in to focus around her. It was the same space she recalled from before, except her perspective was very different.

"I'm _in_ the bed," she whispered, though she wasn't sure if she'd made a sound.

Her tongue felt like sandpaper. And Emily was pretty sure someone had stuffed a large ball of cotton down her throat. She felt liked she'd just woken up after a very bad drinking binge. Pushing that thought out of her head, she spotted two figures in the room. Derek was slumped over in a chair, his head hanging off one side in a very uncomfortable looking manner. But she was just glad to see him getting some rest.

Angie was on the other side; bent forward, cheek resting against the bed near Emily's left hand. Her eyes were closed and a soft puff of breath escaped her lips. Emily was pulled nearly twenty-four years into the past, to a similar hospital bed and a sleeping girl in her arms. She lifted her hand with a lot of effort and gently placed it against Angie's cheek. It was warm and soft, much the same as the baby she'd welcomed into the world all those years ago.

"Wake up," Emily whispered.

The girl groaned and shifted a little, but remained asleep.

A thought came to Emily, the memory of something Angie had told her in confidence. "Wake up, wake up you sleepy head," she beckoned to the girl again.

"I'm still tired, mommy," the girl whispered. Angie's eyes sprang open, disoriented for a moment. Then the memory of Derek's late night call brought it all back. She'd returned to the hospital and hadn't left Emily's side for nearly ten hours. She kept her head resting against the comfy bed, but her eyes locked on the woman starring down at her. "Emily?"

Dry laughter emitted from Emily's lips, still raspy from her prolonged nap. "Did I miss the Christmas gathering you had planned?" Emily asked.

Angie's eyes brightened as she sat up. "We sort of had that gathering here." Her head turned toward the man asleep in the chair across from her. "Derek," she called to him.

"Hmm?" he bolted upright, smacking his lips and blinking rapidly. "I was just resting my eyes," Morgan began to make excuses, but stopped when he spotted Emily. "Or maybe I fell asleep and am dreaming right now," he whispered, pulling his chair closer and grabbing Emily's hand. "You're awake?"

"Brilliant deduction," Emily grinned. "Now, can I get something to drink?"

Derek grabbed the ice water cup they kept bringing in hopes of Emily waking. He held the straw for her. "Small sips," he instructed. "Doctor's orders."

She sipped according to the rules. "Didn't think you cared much for the doctors around here," Emily quipped. Despite her good mood at the moment, her head hurt a lot and she winced a little against the pain.

"Not my favorite people," Morgan wondered how she knew that as he watched her grimace. "But I think I should go find one now."

"Wait," her right hand limply gripped his, stopping him from leaving. "I think we should do it."

His brows rose. "Uh, Emily… your daughter's sitting right here. You might want to keep the conversation clean," Derek winked.

"No," she responded. "Well…" a slow smile came over her features in spite of the headache brewing behind her left eye. "Hopefully that, too… soon," Emily arched her brow, but immediately regretted it for the spike of pain it caused. She did her best to fight back the discomfort of her injuries, and stayed on track. "I meant the two of us living together with Declan," she clarified, "Or at least with Resi."

Morgan stared blankly at her for a moment, this time very curious as to how she knew what he'd been considering. "I think I better find that doctor, because I fear there may be a bit of brain damage going on up there," he waved a finger at her forehead.

Emily's smile remained. "I love you."

"Now I'm really worried," Derek replied, edging away from the bed.

"Wait," again she stopped him. "I know it's strange, but what makes more sense," Emily posed. "Drinking myself to death or the two of us being happy?"

Her words cut through him like a knife, so honest he wanted to praise her for them. "Well, obviously option number two," Derek replied. "But…"

"But what?" Emily didn't allow him to continue. She sensed what was making him hesitate, and what really had him running toward the door. "Does the idea scare you?" she persisted; not seeming to care that Angie currently had a front row seat to their unique relationship. "Because it scares the crap out of me," Emily admitted.

His heart thumped rapidly as he moved back to her side. "Yes, it scares me," Derek let her know, again curious. "But not nearly as much as almost losing you." He bent to kiss her gently on the right cheek. "I love you, too," he whispered.

xxx

Emily underwent so many tests she thought they were going to run out of doctors and nurses to perform them. And most of her BAU family was in and out all day. They did their best to keep visits to a minimum, but Emily was actually glad to see them. Scott returned as well, briefly letting her know how glad he was to see her awake. The only person she hadn't seen yet was her mother. Emily wasn't terribly surprised, though. She knew it was a lot easier making confessions to unconscious people than wide awake ones.

Garcia and Reid had managed to usher Angie and Morgan out, insisting they get coffee, which left Emily alone with one person. She smiled at the boy who was standing across the room by the window. "Come here," she called to him.

Declan did as asked, standing stiffly at her bedside. "Hi," he spoke softly.

She smiled again, recalling how snuggly he'd been before. Her hand reached up to touch his shoulder and she was grateful when it didn't go through him. "You're not going to hurt me, I promise," Emily tried again to get him closer.

He finally caved, sinking down on to the bed and hugging her. "I thought I was going to lose you, too," the boy sniffed.

Emily kissed the top of his head, hugging him one-armed. "I'm fine," she assured him, watching as he sat back. "Are you okay?"

The boy shrugged. "I'm worried that I'll be a bad person when I grow up, like my dad was," he confessed.

Those words had already been heard, but they broke Emily's heart again. "Not possible," she placed a hand against his knee. "You're nothing like him. But, there's one thing you should know about your father. He loved you more than anything. I know he was strict with you and didn't show his love the best way. But you are the best part of him, Declan."

He smiled bashfully. "Did you know my friend Danny was adopted by his parents when he was seven?"

"I did," she'd done research on just about everyone at Declan's school, wanting to assure he was safe there. "They adopted a little girl a few years back. Danny's sister, Anna."

"That's right," Declan nodded. "They're still foster parents, too, and…"

She sensed he was hesitant and made things easier for him. "You can tell me, buddy. Anything."

"They said they'd like for me to come live with them," the boy revealed. "Danny and I bunk together at school. We bonded over being adopted and he's my best friend. We're already like brothers. And his parents are real nice."

"And you could stay in Richmond," Emily caught on quick. "Stay at your school, be close to your friends."

He nodded again. His blue eyes met hers. "Is that okay?"

"I think it's great," Emily agreed.

He smiled brighter. "Will you visit me?"

"So much you'll be sick of me," she replied.

Declan gave her a gentle hug before jumping off the bed. "Can I go call them now?" There was a renewed twinkle in his eyes. "Penelope's been staying with me at your place and she's waiting in the hall for me. She'll make sure I'm okay."

With a nod, she agreed, touched that the boy was so considerate of her feelings. Emily watched as he exited the room. Derek entered seconds later. She guessed he'd gotten his coffee to go and had camped outside her door waiting to be let back in. "Hey," he greeted.

"Hi," she spoke a soft reply.

Morgan sat down on the bed next to her. "He told you about wanting to live with Danny?"

"Yep," Emily tried not to sound upset. "I should have figured. What kid would want to live with me over his best friend? I'm happy for him, really."

"Who you trying to convince?" Derek inquired.

She sighed. "It's silly. I don't even have my life together at the moment. Bringing a kid into it would've been ridiculous."

Derek nodded along with her. He ditched his coffee on a nearby table then kicked off his shoes and stretched himself out on her bed. Morgan was careful of the monitoring wires and the IV in her hand as he settled beside her. He was glad when she rested her head against his chest. "If it's any consolation," he whispered. "I'd still like to move in with you."

"That's not a consolation prize," Emily immediately let him know. "It's a gift," she insisted. "One I'd like delivered soon. As in, when can I leave this dreadful place?"

"Doctors say all your test results are normal," he reported. "Which I find hard to believe since you've never been normal as long as I've known you," Derek teased. He received a powerful swat against his chest. Her hands certainly worked fine. "Seriously, they said you might be released in as little as twenty-four hours," Morgan concluded.

Emily scoffed, "Isn't that what they said about me waking up?"

They both laughed until they drifted to sleep.

xxx

"Did I tell you forensics finally located Doyle's bullet embedded in the roof about twenty yards from where he shot you?" Derek asked as easily as if they were discussing a recent movie release. "The snow finally melted enough for them to find it."

Her head shook. "Still can't believe I was that lucky," Emily reflected. Just twelve hours after being released from the hospital she was relaxed in the large Jacuzzi tub in her bathroom.

"Neither can I," he voiced. "Almost like you had guardian angels watching over you."

That idea seemed absurd to her, and yet, Emily couldn't help think of Matthew and John.

Warm bubbles soothed her tired and sore body. But it was a pair of hands gliding their way up her thighs that caused Emily to grin. She glanced across the tub to where Derek sat, naked and wet. "Don't get any bright ideas about this going any further, mister," she gently warned. "You heard what the doctors said about strenuous activity for the next few weeks. And I still have a killer headache going on," Emily informed him with an apologetic smile.

"Okay, but this is the only time I'll allow that headache excuse to fly," he conceded, letting his hands drop away.

She closed her eyes for a moment, savoring the last bit of heat from the bathwater. "This is a lot nicer than the last time we bathed together," Emily noted. It was difficult to recall that shower in which he'd attempted to sober her up. It felt like a lifetime ago, a lifetime she hoped was behind them for good.

"It is," Morgan agreed.

Emily sat up. "But I'm afraid I'm turning in to a prune here," she pointed out.

Derek took that as his cue. "Don't move yet," he stood, stepped out of the tub and toweled off. Then he slipped on a pair of boxer briefs and some sweat pants before grabbing another towel for Emily. He helped her stand, wrapped the towel around her, and then lifted her into his arms.

"My legs aren't broken," she protested, though minimally.

He grinned, kissing her on the lips as they made their way in to her room. "I know, but this is much more fun than walking. Isn't it?" Derek didn't hope for an answer as he deposited her on to the bed. He stood in front of her, carefully drying her hair while being mindful of the injuries to her face. It still amazed him that after everything she'd been through the last week, she was home and seemingly fine aside from the scars and bruising.

She stared at his chest as he toweled off the rest of her body with equal care. "I could get used to this."

"So could I," Derek kissed her again. Then he slipped his t-shirt over her head and tucked her in to bed. "I'm jealous," he said, plopping down on his belly next to her.

"That I get to lounge around all day?" Emily frowned. "Trust me, I'd rather be chasing bad guys," she let him know. "Or doing other things of a sexual nature with you as my willing and able partner," she purred.

Morgan swallowed. "That's just mean," he pointed a finger at her. "You are a cruel woman. Although, I _was_ referring to the fact that I was jealous of my shirt since it's gotten to touch a lot more of you than I have lately," he admitted. Their lips met again. Derek's hands moved from her shoulders, around to the back of her neck and then upward to push damp hair away from her face.

"Ouch," Emily pulled back as his fingers pressed against the stitches above her eyebrow.

"Sorry," Derek winced in sympathy. "I forgot, doctor's orders," he mumbled disappointedly. "I hate doctors."

"Me, too," she agreed. "Except for Reid, he's all right." Emily situated a stack of pillows behind her back. "We actually had a really nice talk while I was still at the hospital. Cleared the air about me telling him Angie was my cousin. I think it might take a little more time for that wound to heal, but he's agreed to keep meeting with me for our private rehab sessions." She watched Derek as he lay there quietly and listened. "We haven't talked much about that."

He shrugged. "You're talking to Reid about it. That's a good thing," Morgan acknowledged.

"I want to talk to you about it, too," she bravely said. "I know I've been resistive, hoping to protect you from all of my issues, and I'm still wary. But, I really want this to work, Derek. You and me," Emily took his hand. "All we've really talked about the last few days are pent up sexual desires and what we want to eat for our next meal."

Derek nodded. "I thought we should take things easy for a while considering you nearly died. You don't need any stress right now."

She smiled. "I appreciate that, but some things need to be said. Addiction isn't something that just goes away, not even for a little while. I'll always be an alcoholic."

"I know that, Emily."

"But I'm going to try my hardest to stay sober. And I'm going to accept that I will probably always be confused by life."

"Aren't we all?" he flashed an encouraging smile.

"I'm not perfect," she added.

"I know that, too," Morgan replied, pointing to the stitches above her eyebrow. "But lucky for you, I find scars on women to be very sexy."

Her head shook. "Why do you always do that? I'm trying to be serious, and you always transition to sex."

Derek sighed in frustration. "I wouldn't say always. Besides, you just did the same thing to me a few minutes ago," he pointed out. Morgan took a deep breath. "I know you're not perfect, Emily. I don't want you to be perfect. I want you to be the smart, generous, loving, and yes, sexy-as-hell woman that I've come to know and love these past few years," he insisted. "You're alive, you're home. And whatever you tell me, however many fights you pick, it's not gonna make me leave. I'm in this with you, forever," Derek vowed.

"Me, too," she squeezed his hand.

A cell phone rang from across the room, interrupting their conversation. Morgan reluctantly left the bed and fished the phone from his jeans, which had been tossed aside in favor of their bath. "It's JJ," he said before answering.

"That can't be good," Emily whispered while listening to the short, one-sided conversation.

When the call was over, Derek's face revealed the ugly reality of the situation. "Duty calls."

xxx

Less than a half hour later, Derek reentered the bedroom fully clothed and ready for work. "Found you a babysitter," he announced.

Emily groaned in protest. There was a tower of books by her bed. A fully charged cell phone rested on the nightstand. Plus there was a basket of healthy, non-perishable snacks within reach. And Resi was curled into a very small ball beneath Emily's left elbow. "I'm perfectly capable of walking to the bathroom, and I have all this stuff," she waved a hand, grateful that he'd provided it all. "I don't need a babysitter."

"Not even one with hot cocoa and candy canes?" Angie asked as she stood in the doorway holding two paper cups from a local café. A purple and green tote bag hung off her right arm and was stuffed full of magazines and other goodies.

A smile came to Emily's lips, despite her objections a moment ago. "I might have to make an exception in this case," she held a hand out for the chocolaty drink.

Derek chuckled. "Glad you're so easily swayed by chocolate," he kissed her on the cheek. "And with any luck I'll be back in time to ring in the New Year with you."

"You better," Emily chided in a not-so-serious tone. "I love you."

He grinned. "You have no idea how strange it is to keep hearing those words come out of your mouth."

"Guess I should stop then," she playfully teased.

"Don't you dare," Derek kissed her on the lips one last time. "Love you, too."

Angie deposited the extra cocoa cup in to Emily's waiting hands. Then she watched the older woman. She noticed how Emily's eyes remained on the doorway as Derek grabbed his cell phone and exited the room. Her eyes stayed on the doorway even after they heard the door downstairs close. "You miss him already, don't you?" the girl asked. She settled herself on one end-corner of the bed, stirring her steaming cocoa with a peppermint candy cane.

"Nah," Emily shrugged.

"He really loves you a lot," Angie wasn't buying her mother's act. "That was pretty evident to me in Richmond. He was so worried about you he convinced the medical chopper pilot to fly you out of there during that horrible snow storm," she recalled.

"Really?" she hadn't heard that story.

"Yep," Angie nodded.

"You know… Reid's probably going on the same trip," Emily pointed out. "Won't you miss him?"

"Shoot," the girl lamented. "I forgot about that. I'm not so sure I like this job of yours."

Emily regarded the young woman, worried about her. "Sit closer," she patted the spot beside her. Angie seemed a bit reluctant, and Emily didn't want to force the girl. But she hoped to nurture the closeness they'd shared while locked away. "Are you doing okay after what happened with Doyle?" she finally asked as Angie sat next to her, their shoulders touching.

The girl shrugged. "I guess." Several seconds stretched between them. "Not really, at least not in some ways," she admitted.

"What ways?" Emily tried to get her to open up further.

"My apartment," Angie replied. "I don't like being there alone."

One of the last things Emily ever wanted was her daughter to feel like a victim. But it wasn't something she could change now. "You could stay here for a while if you'd like. I have an extra room down the hall," Emily put the offer out there. "It'll get easier with time," she assured the girl. "But for now, you don't have to be alone."

"It would still be close to school," Angie noted.

"School?" Emily was intrigued. "So, you're going back?"

"I am," Angie said as she sipped her cocoa. "One thing Doyle made me realize is that I want to help put criminals like him behind bars. And I'd rather do that from a courtroom than being out on the street like you. I'm not sure how you face situations like that day after day," she shuddered a little.

A weary sigh escaped Emily's lips. "It's difficult," she replied. "However, the people we help, the way my team came to help us, that's what makes it worth it. Reuniting parents with a lost child, or bringing peace of mind to a family after the death of a loved one… that's why we do it." She put an arm around Angie's shoulders, no longer worried about how the girl would react. "I think it's great that you want to follow in my footsteps by going into law enforcement, sort of."

Angie smiled. "Hopefully I won't have to use my Karate chop skills much in the courtroom."

"You never know, those judges can be difficult," Emily quipped.

They both laughed as Angie reached for her bag and dumped out the contents. Angie snatched up one of the travel magazines she'd brought along. "I figure traveling is something I can do in the summer when school's out. But I need your help to figure out the best places to go for shopping and sightseeing in Europe."

"Shopping?" Emily was surprised. "I didn't think that was your thing?"

"It's not, which is why I need your help," Angie explained. "My dad is a history professor, so I never really stood a chance of learning girly things from him. I don't know much about clothing, poetry, romance, or cultural stuff. But I hear Europe is very romantic. I might even ask Spencer to join me."

Emily pretended to pout. "I assume that means I've been bumped off the trip roster?"

"No," Angie quickly responded. "I do want you to join me for the trip, just… maybe not all of it."

"Understandable," Emily smiled.

The two of them flipped through glossy pictures for a while before the doorbell rang. Angie jumped off the bed, leaving Emily with the cat. "Are you expecting someone?" Emily asked Resi, watching the gray cat stretch and yawn. "The only people I care about are all on a case or downstairs answering the door." Emily was momentarily worried about Angie answering her door alone. But the fear subsided when Angie reentered the bedroom followed by their unexpected guest.

Elizabeth stood there in her perfectly ironed slacks and navy blouse. She glanced around the space without a word. Angie watched the two stubborn women and decided they needed some privacy. "I'm going to go… feed the cat," she declared, dashing over to scoop Resi up and exiting the room before either woman could stop her.

Emily grinned. "She's a smart kid, but subtlety is obviously not her strongest quality."

"I still can't believe she's your…" Liz trailed off, still working her eyes around the room. "That you actually have a…" again she wasn't quite sure of her words. "Or that I'm a…"

"Grandmother?" Emily finally offered up a choice.

The elder Prentiss nodded. "Right. That's the word," she crossed her arms over her chest and moved toward the large window in the room. "Nice view," Elizabeth noticed. She spun around and faced her daughter. "I'd like to have a relationship with her, Angie, if that's all right?"

"I think that's something you should discuss with her," Emily suggested.

"Yes, of course," Liz agreed. "I just thought I should talk to you about it, in case you were against that sort of thing."

Old patterns emerged again as Emily mumbled, "Not like I could stop you."

Liz's eyes finally settled on Emily. "Contrary to what you may think, I didn't come here to argue with you. I've actually been worried about you," she admitted. "Seeing you in the hospital was… well, it brought back a lot of memories of your father that I thought I'd dealt with long ago."

"Never talking about them is not the same as dealing with them, mother," Emily blurted out. She felt bad, though, recalling the way her mother had seemed to so easily unburden herself at Emily's bedside. "I'm sorry," she added, hoping that her first step would help her mother take one as well.

"What for?" Elizabeth asked with caution.

"For being a brat," Emily sighed. "For blaming you when I really needed to take a look in the mirror. I can't keep blaming genetics and whatever else for what I've done with my life. The drinking is my problem, not daddy's. I'm an adult who hasn't taken very good control of her life. That's on me, not you or daddy. But I'm getting help," she avowed. "And maybe it's too late for us to have any kind of relationship, but it's not too late for Angie and me. Or you and Angie. So, I hope you do pursue something with her."

"Emily," the name was pushed past Liz's lips with equal weight of forgiveness and regret. "I don't think it's ever too late," she moved closer to her daughter's side, close enough to brush the back of her fingers against Emily's cheek. "Your father is gone, but you're still here. He was never able to take this step, but I'm very glad you are. I'm so proud of you."

Battling against the tears in her eyes, Emily took her mother's hand. "You have no idea what it means to me to hear you say that."

Elizabeth kissed her daughter's hand. "Maybe it's not too late for us either," she fished.

"Maybe not," Emily concurred.

"I should let you rest," Liz said as she stepped toward the door. "But your father would like to come visit you. He's been out of town on business these last few weeks. He'll be back next Friday morning. And I thought maybe the two of us could bring you some dinner, a simple pasta dish, perhaps," she suggested. "I assume enough for four, since Derek will be here?"

Emily nodded. "You assume correctly."

"So that would be agreeable to you?" Elizabeth sough clarification. "For the four of us to have a meal next Friday?"

"Yes, mother," she nodded again; almost amused by the amount of effort it took her mother to say those words. "I'd like that."

xxx

Resi ran back inside and leapt on the bed. The cat walked in a circular pattern for several seconds before snuggling against Emily's elbow again. Angie poked her head in. "Have I left sufficient time for you to recover from granny Liz's visit?" the young woman asked. "I assume all tears have been dried, or walls have been cleaned from the mudslinging?" she ventured further in to the room clutching a book in her left hand.

"Did you just call her granny Liz?" Emily couldn't help laugh.

The girl nodded. "I'm trying out a few things," she said, making her way over to the bed. "Grandmother is just far too formal for me," Angie stuck her tongue out to show her disgust of the term as she crawled back to her place beside Emily on the comfy queen bed. "I've never had grandparents. All mine died before I turned three."

"Well, I apologize in advance that mine get to be your only exposure to grandparents," Emily quipped.

"You know, speaking of names…" Angie placed the book on her lap as she looked to Emily. "I was wondering if maybe I could start calling you mom instead of Emily." She watched the older woman and waited as an awkward silence filled the room. "You know what, forget it. It's too soon, right?" Angie tried to shake it off. "I don't want to push you. The last thing I want is for you to start regretting ever having me." Silence hung thick in the room again. "Was it too soon to make that joke?" Angie finally asked.

Emily laughed so hard she cried. "No," she sniffed. "Not at all. I'm just so happy you inherited my sense of humor. I'm glad I didn't get some snobbish kid."

"I think that was a compliment," Angie shrugged.

"Definitely," Emily assured. "So, this mom business…" she screwed up her nose a little in doubt. "You sure about that?"

"Pretty sure," Angie replied, though she was still worried about Emily's reaction to it.

A slow nod came from Emily. "If that's what you want," she nonchalantly agreed. "I just wish you hadn't shown up at such a bad time," Emily lamented, but quickly realized the mistake of her words. "I meant, for you… because you really shouldn't have to deal with all my shit. Or with the fact that you have a mother who swears."

Angie chuckled. "I'm not sorry about my timing."

"No?" Emily admired the girl's confidence, envied it actually. "Because this isn't going to be easy. I'm an addict, and I always will be." Her thoughts drifted to the past again. "But I want you to know that I never took a drink when I was pregnant with you. _Never_," she insisted.

A pleased smile upturned the corners of Angie's lips. "Then maybe my presence in your life now will have the same effect."

"The sense of humor is certainly mine," Emily reiterated. "But you're way too optimistic to be mine or John's kid."

Angie chuckled softly at that. A quiet settled around the room again as she picked up the book she'd lifted from a shelf downstairs. "I found this when you and granny Liz were talking and I was pretending to feed the cat," she kept up the grandmother joke. Angie flipped through the book and pulled out a picture. "This fell out."

Emily instantly recognized her worn copy of James Joyce's _Dubliners_. She more easily recognized the tattered photograph of her and her friends. "That's Matthew," she pointed out.

"And you, and John," Angie nodded. "When I was twelve my dad took me to this tacky salon at the mall and," she shuddered. "They butchered my hair," she ran a finger over John's figure in the picture. "I actually looked a lot like he does here. My hair was a little longer, though. But not much. Thankfully it grows fast."

The joy of learning more about her daughter brought a smile to Emily's face. "It's still hard to believe they're both gone now." She let go a heavy sigh, turning to regard Angie. "You mentioned a while back that it hadn't been a very good year for me, losing both friends so close together. But having you here has certainly helped this year end much better than it began. We can make all the jokes you want, but I am very glad to have you back in my life."

Angie felt a sense of pride she'd never known before. "Do you ever think about having kids?" she asked. "I mean, other than me." Her shoulders rose. "I don't know why, but I was just thinking that if you did I'd have a sibling twenty-four years younger than me. That would be pretty wild."

"It's not going to happen, so don't worry," Emily replied, flipping through her dog-eared book and landing on her favorite story in the collection.

"I didn't mean wild as a bad thing," the girl explained herself. "I think you and Derek would have a pretty cute kid together. Derek would be a great dad. He already has a dad quality."

The subject matter made Emily cringe a little. "I'm too old," she protested.

"No, you're not."

"I'm almost forty."

"So, all the celebrities are having babies in their forties," Angie dismissed that as a valid reason.

Emily was finally starting to realize how good her daughter was at cross examination. "I'm not a celebrity," she pointed out.

"You have an answer for everything," Angie noted. "Don't you want to know what you missed by not raising me?"

"I've talked to your father," Emily said. "Dirty diapers, late night crying, teething tantrums, teenage hormones and college tuition fees. Nope, I'm good, thanks."

Angie laughed. "I think you'd be a good mom."

"Right," Emily's eyes rolled. "Because the first time you and I met I told you to get lost. Really great mom material right there."

"That's not true," Angie adamantly protested. "You and Derek put too much stock in first meetings. Besides, the first time we met you took care of me for several hours. Then you realized you wanted me to have a better life than you could give me. So you took me somewhere safe, to someone you trusted. And you wrote a note on my behalf, a note that I've treasured and carried with me all these years," Angie pointed out. "That's the best first meeting I ever could've hoped for."

"Way too optimistic," Emily echoed her earlier sentiment even as she brushed Angie's bangs to one side. "There's something else I did the first time we met back then. I kissed you just like this," she leaned over and softly kissed the girl's forehead. "And I told you how much I loved you."

The girl smiled. "I love you, too, mom."

Unprepared for that first time, Emily felt tears well. "Stop making me cry," she carefully dabbed around her bruises. "The tears are causing my eye to sting." Emily showed her daughter the page she'd opened to, focusing on a slightly less emotional subject. "Have you ever read this?"

"_The Dead_?" Angie noticed the title. "No," her head shook. "But haven't we dealt with that subject enough lately?"

Emily handed the book to Angie and settled against her pillows, one hand petting Resi. "Consider this part of your cultural lesson. I'm sure your father stuck to reading you bedtime stories out of history novels. But this is classic literature. And you're going to read it to me, because I'm too tired to do it myself." She closed her eyes.

"Hmm," Angie was non-committal, though she took the book in hand. "If I do this, you have to promise you'll bake cookies with me some day," she made a counter offer. "They actually make cookie dough that you can buy already prepared. You just have to bake them. We probably couldn't mess that up too badly."

"You drive a hard bargain, Ms. Prosecutor," Emily joked. "But, I agree to your terms."

Satisfied, Angie began to read, "_Lily, the caretaker's daughter, was literally run off her feet…_"

xxx

There was movement in the dark room. Then the bed shifted. For a second Emily thought it was Resi, but when an arm settled against her waist she opened her eyes. Derek lay beside her, stripped down to his boxer-briefs. He hadn't even bothered to pull the covers back, lying atop them. "I didn't hear you come in," she said.

"Sorry," Derek's voice replied, soft and distant.

"What's wrong?" Emily turned a little to face him.

"Nothing," he sighed, pulling away and finally taking time to climb beneath the fluffy white comforter. "I'm sorry I woke you, it's just been a really long three days and…" Silence filled the small expanse between them for a moment. "We were too late, Emily. There was nothing we could do. She'd been dead for several hours by the time we found her."

She swallowed a lump, having kept tabs a little on the case via Garcia. "I'm sorry."

He rested his head against a pillow, eyes aimed her way. "It hit pretty close to home with what happened to you and Angie recently." His breathing evened out a little as he placed a gentle hand against her warm neck. "How are you both doing?"

"Good," Emily spoke confidently, hoping to buoy his spirits. "Well, my head hurts, but no surprise there." She shrugged one shoulder. "And, uh… Angie's kind of moved in. I guess I didn't really discuss that with you. She's been a little freaked about being alone at her place, so…"

"That's good," he cut her off. "I think it'll be nice for the two of you, help foster more of that mother daughter bond," Morgan insisted.

Emily smiled. "She already cajoled me into making cookies with her and we've planned a pretty extensive European trip for this summer. Hopefully I can get the time off." She paused a moment. "And she called me mom the other day. It hasn't quite stuck yet, but... I kind of hope it does."

Derek let his fingertips caress the fine hairs at the back of her neck. "I'm happy for you," he let her know. "Let's just hope she doesn't invite Reid here for any sleepovers."

Her face contorted. "Eww," Emily shivered, slapping his hand away. "Why did you feel the need to paint that picture for me?"

"Sorry," he chuckled.

That small bit of laughter from him delighted her. "I missed you."

He kissed her softly. "Missed you, too."

"There's one other thing I should tell you while you're in a decently relaxed mood," Emily primed. "My parents are having dinner with us next Friday." She watched him for a moment, worried about his mute response. "Does that scare you?"

"Very much so," he finally answered. "But I'm learning to accept the fact that life is scary. And also worth embracing," Derek pressed his body against her again, wrapping his arms about her waist. Being mindful of her injuries, he softly kissed the unharmed side of her forehead. "Night," he whispered.

"Goodnight," she echoed.

* * *

><p><strong>The End<strong>

**Thank you all for reading! It's been a pleasure writing for you. Maybe we can do this dance again some day soon.**


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